THE  LIBRARY 

OF 

77TrrTJNI\7TTlS]TY 
OF  CALIFORNIA 

LOS  ANGELES 


COLOR    STUDIES 


COLOR    STUDIES 


AND 


A  MEXICAN    CAMPAIGN 


BY 


THOMAS   A.   JANVIER 

AUTHOR  OF  "THE  AZTEC  TREASURE-HOUSE,"  "STORIES  OF  OLD  NEW 
SPAIN,"  "THK  MEXICAN  GUIDE,"  ETC. 


NEW    YORK 

CHARLES    SCRIBNER'S    SONS 
1899 


COPYRIGHT,  1885,  1891,  BY 
CHARLES    SCRIBNER'S    SONS 


THOW» 
PRINTINQ  AND  BOOKBINDING  COMPANY 


Go 

C.  A.  J. 

OUT  OF  WHOSE  COLOR-BOX  THESE  STORIES  CAME, 

AND  TO  WHOSE  SUGGESTIONS  THE  BEST   PORTIONS 

OF    ONE    OF   THESE    STORIES, 

' '  JAUNE   D'ANTIMOINE, " 

ARE   DUE. 


G50599 


There  is  no  Moral  in  this  book, 
No  Purpose  is  there  'twixt  its  covers, 

In  truth,  whichever  way  you  look 
You'll  only  find— a  Pair  of  Lovers. 


COLOR  STUDIES. 


ROSE   MADDER. 

OLD  MADDER  lived  on  the  top  floor  ol 
an  artist  rookery  down  in  the  Green 
wich  region — near  enough  to  the  Tenth 
Street  Studio  Building  for  him  to  say  that  he 
lived  in  an  artistic  quarter  of  the  town  ;  un 
der  the  roof,  as  he  was  wont  very  reasonably 
to  explain,  because  that  was  the  only  place 
in  any  house  where  a  man  could  get  a  sky 
light.  Catch  him  spoiling  good  painting  by 
working  by  a  side  light,  he  would  say. 

A  dozen  or  more  other  men,  all  painters,  had 
quarters  in  the  building.  Some  of  them  were 
old  fellows — old  Cremnitz  White  and  Robert 
Lake,  for  instance — who  had  been  painting 
atrociously  all  their  lives,  and  who  all  the 


2  COLOR  STUDIES. 

while  had  sincerely  believed  themselves  to 
be  the  greatest  artists  of  the  age,  whom  fate, 
and  the  public's  bad  taste,  and  all  the  malign 
forces  at  work  in  the  world  (but  their  own 
incapacity),  had  united  to  trample  on.  And 
with  these  there  were  some  young  fellows — 
Vandyke  Brown,  little  Sap  Green,  Jaune 
d'Antimoine,  McGilp,  and  two  or  three 
more — who  had  not  worked  long  enough  to 
prove  very  conclusively  whether  their  work 
was  bad  intrinsically  or  bad  only  because 
they  had  yet  a  good  deal  to  learn.  All  of 
these  men  snarled  and  snapped  at  each  other 
more  or  less,  and  abused  each  other's  work, 
and  envied  each  other's  (apparently)  less  bad 
fortune ;  and,  on  the  whole,  were  pretty 
good  friends. 

Of  them  all,  old  Madder  was  the  only  one 
who  had  his  family  with  him  :  and  old  Mad 
der's  family  consisted  solely  and  simply  of 
his  daughter  Rose.  In  all  Greenwich  there 
was  not  a  more  charming  little  body  than 
Rose  Madder  ;  probably  it  would  be  within 
bounds  to  say  that  there  was  not  a  more 


ROSE  MADDER.  3 

charming  little  body  in  all  New  York.  She 
was  twenty  or  thereabouts,  and  as  plump  as 
a  little  partridge,  and  as  good-humored  as 
the  day  was  long.  You  must  have  seen  her 
face — at  least  as  good  a  copy  of  it  as  old 
Madder  could  make,  which  is  not  saying  a 
great  deal,  to  be  sure — a  dozen  times  in  the 
last  dozen  years  at  the  Academy  exhibi 
tions  ;  for  Madder  was  an  N.  A.,  and  so  was 
one  of  those  whose  "  line  "  privileges  make 
the  Academy  exhibitions  so  hopelessly  exas 
perating.  Rose  began  to  do  duty  as  a  model 
before  she  was  weaned  ("Soldier's  Widow 
and  Orphaned  Child,"  Rubens  Madder,  A. 
N.  A.,  1864),  but  the  first  really  recogniza 
ble  portrait  of  her  that  saw  the  light  was 
"  The  Bread-winner  "  (1875),  in  which  she 
figured  in  an  apron,  with  rolled-up  sleeves, 
making  real  bread  at  what  a  theatrical  per 
son  would  call  a  practicable  table.  Since 
then  she  had  gone  to  the  Academy  regularly 
every  year — excepting  that  sad  year  when 
her  mother  died,  and  old  Madder  had  not 
the  heart  to  finish  his  "  Dress-Making  at 


4  COLOR  STUDIES. 

Home,"  nor  to  do  anything  at  all  save 
mourn  the  loss  that  never  could  be  repaired. 

It  was  generally  believed  that  the  reason 
why  Madder's  pictures  sold — for  some  of 
them  did  sell — was  that  Rose,  even  badly 
painted,  was  worth  buying.  All  his  friends 
wanted  to  borrow  her,  but  Madder  would 
never  lend  her  :  she  was  too  valuable  to  him 
as  stock-in-trade.  And  with  the  odd  hun 
dreds  which  dropped  in  from  his  pictures, 
with  some  other  odd  hundreds  that  he 
picked  up  by  painting  portaits — things  hard 
as  stones,  which  he  was  wont  to  say,  mod 
estly,  were  good  because  he  had  caught 
completely  the  style  of  his  old  master,  Sully 
— he  managed  to  pick  up  a  living,  and  to 
keep  the  frame-maker  from  the  door. 

It  was  the  prettiest  sight  in  the  world  to 
see  Rose  posing  for  her  father.  She  had 
seen  too  many  pictures,  and  had  heard  too 
much  picture-talk,  not  to  know  that  her 
father's  pictures  were  pretty  bad.  But  she 
loved  her  father  with  all  her  heart,  and  she 
would  have  died  cheerfully  rather  than  let 


ROSE  MADDER:  5 

him  for  a  single  moment  suspect  that  she  did 
not  truly  believe  him  to  be  the  greatest  artist 
of  his  own  or  any  previous  age.  And  Madder, 
while  yet  recognizing  the  fact  that  some  few 
men  had  excelled  him  in  art,  found  much 
solace  for  his  soul  in  his  daughter's  unlimited 
admiration  of  his  greatness.  Therefore,  when 
she  posed  for  him,  and  with  much  gravity 
discussed  with  him  how  the  pose  would 
have  been  arranged  by  his  great  name 
sake,  Rubens  (in  point  of  fact,  Reuben  was 
the  name  given  him  by  his  godfathers  and 
godmothers  in  baptism)  or  Sir  Joshua  or 
some  other  of  his  acknowledged  superiors, 
and  all  the  while  talked  heartening  talk  to 
him,  and  gave  him — with  due  deference  to 
the  interests  of  the  pose — sweet  looks  of 
love  out  of  her  gentle  blue  eyes  ;  when  all 
this  was  going  on,  it  was,  I  repeat,  the  pret 
tiest  sight  in  the  world. 

Vandyke  Brown  thought  so,  certainly ; 
and  that  he  might  enjoy  it  freely,  he  made 
all  manner  of  excuses  for  coming  into  Mad 
der's  studio  while  work  was  going  on.  The 


0  COLOR   STUDIES. 

most  unblushing  of  all  these  excuses— • 
though  the  one  that  he  found  most  useful — 
was  that  he  wanted  to  study  Madder's  style. 
This  was  carrying  mendacity  to  a  very  high 
pitch  indeed,  for  until  within  the  past  year, 
Brown  had  been  accustomed  to  cite  Mad 
der's  style  as  being  a  most  shining  example 
of  all  that  was  pernicious  in  the  old  school. 
Brown  was  a  League  man,  of  course,  and 
held  the  Academy  in  an  exceeding  great 
contempt.  Yet  now,  for  hours  at  a  stretch — 
and  when  he  had  work  of  his  own  on  hand 
that  needed  prompt  attention — he  would  sit 
by  old  Madder's  easel  and  talk  high  art  with 
him,  and  listen  calmly  to  the  utterance  of 
old-time  heresies  fit  to  make  your  flesh 
creep,  and  hear  for  the  hundredth  time  Mad 
der  draw  the  parallel  between  himself  and 
poor  old  Ben  Haydon,  and,  worst  of  all, 
watch  old  Madder  placidly  painting  away  in 
a  fashion  that  sent  cold  creeps  down  his 
(Brown's)  back,  and  made  him  long  to  take 
Madder  by  the  shoulders  and  ram  his  head 
through  the  canvas.  All  this  torment  Van- 


ROSE  MADDER.  7 

dyke  Brown  would  undergo  for  no  better 
reason  than  that  Rose  Madder  was  a  dozen 
feet  away  on  the  platform,  and  by  thus  sit 
ting  by  her  father's  side  he  had  the  joy  of 
hearing  her  sweet  voice  and  the  greater  joy 
of  seeing  her  sweeter  smiles. 

What  was  still  more  unreasonable  in 
Brown's  conduct  was  his  sturdy  objection  to 
sharing  this  mixed  pleasure  with  anybody 
else.  When  little  Sap  Green  came  in,  as  he 
very  often  did,  he  would  fume  and  fret,  and 
make  himself  so  disagreeable  to  the  little 
man — who  was  a  good  enough  little  chap  in 
his  way,  guilty  of  no  other  sin  than  of  paint 
ing  most  abominably — that  Rose  would  have 
to  intervene  with  all  her  tact  and  gentleness 
to  prevent  a  regular  outbreak.  And  it  was 
still  worse  when  the  visitor  was  McGilp. 
Brown  hated  this  sleek,  slippery  person  most 
heartily.  He  hated  his  always-smooth,  red 
dish-yellow  hair  ;  he  hated  the  oily  smooth 
ness  of  his  voice  ;  he  hated  his  silent,  cat-like 
ways  ;  and,  most  of  all,  he  hated  him  for  his 
insolence  in  venturing  to  love  Rose. 


8  COLOR  STUDIES. 

Moreover,  McGilp  was  Brown's  rival  in 
art.  He  was  a  League  man  too,  and  at  the 
life-class  his  studies  were  the  only  ones  which 
gave  Brown  any  real  uneasiness.  Their 
styles  were  different,  but  there  was  very 
little  choice  in  the  quality  of  their  work. 
And  as  each  would  have  been  the  acknowl 
edged  first  if  the  other  had  been  out  of  the 
way,  there  was  not  much  love  lost  between 
them.  To  do  Brown  justice,  though,  mere 
professional  rivalry  never  would  have  set 
him  at  loggerheads  with  anybody  ;  it  was 
the  other  rivalry  that  made  him  hate  McGilp 
— coupled  with  a  profound  conviction  that 
in  McGilp's  composition  there  was  a  thor 
oughly  bad  streak  that  by  rights  should  bar 
completely  his  pretensions  to  Rose's  love. 

An  ugly  piece  of  work  had  been  done  at 
the  life-class  in  the  past  season,  that  never 
yet  had  received  a  satisfactory  explanation. 
The  pose  was  a  strong  one,  and  both  Brown 
and  McGilp  had  worked  hard  over  it — with 
Brown  ahead.  On  the  morning  of  the  last 
day  of  the  pose  Brown  had  found  his  study 


ROSE  MADDER.  Q 

most  ingeniously  ruined.  It  was  not  painted 
out,  but  here  and  there  over  the  whole  of  it 
bits  had  been  touched  in  that  took  out  all  its 
strength,  and  reduced  it  simply  to  the  level 
of  the  commonplace.  The  study  was  spoiled 
but  so  cleverly  that  even  the  men  who  had 
watched  Brown  at  his  work  were  inclined  to 
believe — in  accordance  with  the  humane 
custom  that  makes  all  of  us  give  a  man  in  a 
tight  place  the  benefit  of  every  doubt  that 
will  make  his  place  tighter — that  they  had 
overestimated  its  merits,  and  that  the  study 
had  been  weak  from  the  start.  Brown  be 
lieved  most  thoroughly — though  with  no 
more  material  ground  for  his  belief  than  the 
skill  with  which  the  changes  had  been  made, 
and  a  vague  remembrance  of  seeing  McGilp 
still  pottering  over  his  work  after  the  class 
broke  up  the  day  before — that  McGilp  was 
the  man  who  had  played  this  scurvy  trick  on 
him.  He  kept  his  suspicions  to  himself; 
but,  since  he  held  them,  it  is  no  great  won 
der  that  when  McGilp  was  the  intruder  upon 
his  lounging  in  old  Madder's  studio,  Rose 


IO  COLOR  STUDIES. 

needed  all  her  cleverness  in  order  to  stave 
off  a  storm  ! 

The  fact  of  the  matter  was  that  Brown  was 
desperately  in  love  with  Rose,  and  as  yet 
was  in  a  state  of  anything  but  pleasing  un 
certainty  as  to  whether  there  was  the  least 
chance  in  the  world  that  his  love  would  be 
returned.  What  made  his  situation  all  the 
more  uncomfortable  was  his  profound  con 
viction — at  least  in  his  lucid  intervals — that 
for  him  to  fall  in  love  with  anybody  was  a 
most  serious  piece  of  folly.  For  all  in  the 
world  that  he  had  to  live  upon  was  the  very 
doubtful — save  that  it  certainly  always  was 
insufficient — income  that  he  made  by  scrap- 
work  for  the  illustrated  papers,  with  now 
and  then  an  extra  lift  when  a  sanguine  dealer 
was  weak  enough  to  buy  one  of  his  little 
pictures.  He  had  shown  this  much  good 
sense,  at  least ;  he  never  yet  had  tried  to 
paint  a  big  one.  He  did  believe,  and  he 
had  some  ground  for  believing,  that  after  a 
while  he  might  do  work  that  would  be  worth 
something.  In  the  meantime  he  sailed  close 


ROSE  MADDER.  II 

to  the  wind,  and  had  anything  but  an  easy 
time  of  it. 

But  God  tempers  the  wind  to  the  shorn 
lamb,  down  Greenwich  way.  In  that  mod 
est  region  one  may  get  a  very  filling  break 
fast  for  twenty  cents,  and  for  thirty  cents  a 
dinner ;  and  Brown  was  a  rare  hand  at  mak 
ing  coffee  wherewith  to  mitigate  the  severity 
of  his  early  morning  loaf  of  bread.  And,  on 
the  whole,  he  did  not  find  this  hand-to-mouth 
sort  of  life  especially  uncomfortable.  But  he 
had  wisdom  enough  to  perceive  that,  with 
out  something  more  assured  in  the  way  of  a 
living,  getting  married  was  a  risky  under 
taking.  To  be  sure,  he  had  "  prospects." 
His  uncle  Mangan,  who  was  a  highly  re 
spected  leather  man  down  in  the  Swamp, 
had  neither  wife  nor  child,  and  Brown  felt 
tolerably  certain  that  some  day  or  other  a 
fair  share  of  the  profits  of  his  uncle's  leather 
business  would  be  his.  But  Uncle  Mangan 
was  a  tough,  cheery,  hearty  old  fellow,  who 
very  well  might  live  to  be  a  hundred  ;  at 
which  time  his  nephew  would  be  five-and- 


12  COLOR  STUDIES. 

seventy.  The  thought  of  an  engagement  of 
fifty  years'  duration,  ending  in  a  marriage  at 
three-score  years  and  fifteen,  was  rather  ap 
palling. 

"  'E  is  what  you  call  rofe,  very  rofe,  my 
friend,  such  long  time  of  waiting  for  the 
love,"  observed  Jaune  d'Antimoine,  sympa- 
thizingly,  when,  as  his  custom  was  at  short 
intervals,  Brown  had  relieved  his  mind  by 
confiding  his  hopes  and  expectations  and 
doubts  to  his  friend. 

"  Rough  !  I  should  rather  think  so  !  If  you 
knew  how  rough  it  was,  you'd  wonder  that 
I  don't  end  it  all  by  jumping  into  the  river !  " 

"Ah!  but  you  forget,  my  poor  Brown.  I 
also  'ave  my  rose  that  for  I  long,  my  sweet 
Rose  Carthame  ;  I  also  am  most  'opeless 
and  most  meeserable.  And  I  am  even  more 
meeserable  than  you,  for  'ave  I  not  one 
wretched  rival — that  most  execrable  coun 
tryman  of  mine,  which  calls  'imself  the  count 
— count !  parbleu !  'e  is  no  count — Siccatif 
de  Courtray  ?  I — I  vill  yet  eat  'im  alive, 
vig  and  all !  " 


ROSE  MADDER.  13 

It  will  be  observed  that  Brown  withheld 
from  his  friend  his  conviction  that  he  also 
had  a  rival  in  McGilp.  Brown  did  not  like 
to  admit  this  fact  even  to  himself.  To 
couple  this  man,  even  in  his  thoughts,  with 
Rose,  seemed  to  him  nothing  short  of  an 
outrageous  insult.  That  Rose  had  any  other 
feeling  than  that  of  toleration  for  McGilp  he 
could  not,  he  would  not,  believe  ;  but  he 
knew  that  it  was  useless  to  close  his  eyes 
to  the  truth  that  McGilp  was  in  love  with 
Rose,  and  was  bent  upon  winning  her, 
and  that  McGilp  was  not  the  sort  of  man 
to  abandon  lightly  anything  that  he  had 
fully  made  up  his  mind  to  do.  He  was  a 
rival  ;  and,  in  that  he  possessed  force  of 
character  that  begot  persistency  of  purpose, 
he  was  a  dangerous  rival.  So  Brown  was 
in  a  melancholy  way  over  it  all  —  trying 
to  nerve  himself  to  faith  in  his  success  in 
art ;  trying  to  hope  that  Rose,  too,  would 
have  faith  in  him ;  trying  not  to  fall  into 
the  habit  of  thinking  what  pleasant  things 
might  happen  should  his  uncle  Mangan 


14  COLOR  STUDIES. 

suddenly  be  called  into  another  and  a  bettef 
world. 

"  I  SAY,  old  man,  are  you  going  in  for  the 
Philadelphia  prizes  ?  "  asked  little  Sap  Green, 
as  he  tipped  a  lot  of  life-studies  off  a  chair 
in  Brown's  studio,  sat  down  on  the  chair, 
and  blew  such  clouds  of  cigarette  smoke  that 
presently  his  face  shone  out  through  the 
mist  like  that  of  a  spectacled  cherub. 

"  I  do  wish  to  heaven,  Green,  that  you 
wouldn't  smoke  those  vile  things  in  here. 
If  smoking  a  pipe  like  a  Christian  makes  you 
sick,  then  don't  smoke  anything." 

"  I  am,"  Green  continued.  "  Of  course, 
I  know  that  I  don't  stand  a  first  chance,  for 
there  are  several  men  who  can  paint  better 
that  I  can.  Somebody  else  will  get  the  three 
thousand  dollars,  I  suppose  ;  but  I  don't  see 
why  I  shouldn't  get  one  of  the  medals. 
Even  the  bronze  would  be  worth  having. 
It  does  a  fellow  a  heap  of  good  in  the  cata 
logues,  you  know,  to  have  a  medal  after  his 
name." 


ROSE  MADDER.  I  5 

"  And  you  might  wear  it  round  your  neck 
on  a  string.  But  I  don't  think  that  you  need 
a  bronze  medal,  Sap  ;  you've  enough  of  the 
article  already  for  all  practical  purposes." 

"Don't  joke  about  it,  Brown.  I'm  quite 
serious.  You  see,  I  have  an  idea.  Don't 
whistle  that  way,  it's  rude.  You've  been 
associating  too  much  with  the  boys  who 
hang  around  Jefferson  Market.  Yes,  I  have 
an  idea  that  I  think  is  bound  to  win.  I'm 
going  to  do  the  '  Surrender  at  Yorktown.' 
You  know  I'm  pretty  good  all  around — fig 
ures,  animals,  landscape,  and  marine.  The 
trouble  is  to  get  a  subject,  inside  the  condi 
tions,  that  will  bring  them  all  in.  '  York- 
town  '  is  just  the  card.  Figures  of  George 
and  Cornwallis — or  whoever  the  other  fellow 
was — in  foreground ;  staff  in  middle  dis 
tance  ;  group  of  cavalry  close  up  in  front  on 
right ;  French  ships  close  up  in  front  on  left ; 
lots  of  landscape,  with  tents  and  masses  of 
troops  in  background.  There  you  have  it ; 
and  if  that  don't  take  a  medal,  it  will  be  be 
cause  the  committee  has  not  the  sense  to 


l6  COLOR  STUDIES. 

know  a  good  picture  when  it  has  one  under 
its  nose." 

"True,"  observed  Brown,  thoughtfully. 
"  What  a  lucky  thing  it  is  for  you,  Sappy, 
that  Trumbull  didn't  take  out  a  copyright ; 
or,  if  he  did,  that  it  has  expired  by  limi 
tation." 

"Trumbull,  indeed!  It's  just  because 
Trumbull  made  such  a  mess  of  that  subject 
that  I  want  to  show  how  it  ought  to  be 
painted.  Do  you  know,  Brown,  I  think 
that  this  is  the  very  end  that  old  Temple  has 
in  view.  He  wants  these  grand  subjects, 
which  were  ruined  in  our  fathers'  and  grand 
fathers'  time,  to  be  taken  up  by  the  men  of 
the  New  School  and  painted  properly.  But 
I  do  wish  that  the  Philadelphia  people  had 
not  made  this  absurd  rule  about  size.  What 
is  a  man  to  do  with  such  a  subject  as  the 
'  Surrender  at  Yorktown '  on  a  beggarly 
eight-by-ten-foot  canvas  ?  " 

"You  can  get  an  awful  lot  of  paint  on  a 
canvas  that  big,  Sap." 

"You  are  a  beast,  Brown.     When  a  man 


ROSE  MADDER.  l"J 

comes  to  you,  really  in  earnest,  to  tell  you 
of  his  aspirations  and  hopes,  you  answer 
him  simply  with  low  chaff.  You  haven't  a 
scrap  of  the  real  artist  feeling  in  your  whole 
composition."  And  Sap  Green  flounced  out 
of  the  studio,  leaving  Brown  grinning  at  him. 

But  Brown  was  more  in  earnest  than  he 
had  cared  to  own.  He  had  been  thinking 
very  seriously  about  the  Philadelphia  prizes, 
and  he  had  made  up  his  mind  to  go  in  for 
them.  He  knew  that  he  had  no  more  chance 
than  little  Sap  Green  had  for  the  great  prize  ; 
but  he  also  knew,  just  as  Sap  knew,  that 
even  the  lowest  of  the  three  medals  was 
worth  very  earnest  striving  after.  In  win 
ning  it  there  was  honor  to  be  gained,  and 
there  was  money  to  be  made — for  there  was 
not  much  doubt  but  that  a  medalled  picture 
would  find  a  purchaser — and  honor  and 
money  were  what  he  longed  for  just  then 
with  all  his  heart ;  for  these  were  the  means 
that  would  compass  the  end  that  he  lived  for 
— Rose. 

And  Brown  also  had  an  idea.     It  was  not 


1 8  COLOR  STUDIES. 

as  big  an  idea,  in  square  feet,  as  Sap's  ;  but 
it  possessed  the  advantages  of  having  some 
thing  of  originality  about  it,  and  of  being 
within  the  scope  of  his  ability.  He  had  the 
color-study  pretty  well  in  shape  already,  and 
he  believed  that  he  had  a  good  thing.  It 
was  a  simple  picture,  and  very  much  inside 
the  eight-by-ten-foot  limitation.  The  scene 
was  a  roadway  in  a  dark  wood,  the  fore 
ground  in  deepest  shadow.  Out  beneath 
the  arching  branches  was  seen  a  misty  val 
ley,  shimmering  in  the  cool,  crisp  light  of 
early  day,  the  nearly  level  sunbeams  strik 
ing  brilliantly  upon  the  white  tents  of  a 
camp.  And  seen  under  the  bowering  trees, 
but  a  little  beyond  them,  and  in  the  full 
brightness  of  the  morning  light,  was  a  single 
figure,  brought  into  strong  relief  against  the 
dark  hills  lying  in  shadow  on  the  valley's 
farther  side.  The  figure  was  that  of  a 
woman  in  Quaker  dress — the  soft  brown  and 
gray  of  her  shawl  and  gown  in  tone  with  the 
deeper  browns  and  grays  of  the  foreground 
and  of  the  misty  valley  beyond ;  a  good 


ROSE  MADDER.  19 

high-light  in  the  white  kerchief  folded  across 
her  breast  She  was  kneeling.  Her  shawl 
had  fallen  back,  showing  her  beautiful  head 
and  face — beautiful  with  the  beauty  not  of 
youth,  but  of  serene  holiness — on  which  the 
sun  shone  full.  Her  eyes,  moist  with  tears, 
were  full  of  a  glad  thankfulness,  and  through 
all  the  lines  of  the  face  and  figure  was  an  ex 
pression  of  great  joy,  humbled  by  devout 
gratitude  to  Him  who  had  brought  her  safely 
to  her  journey's  end,  and  so  had  given  her 
the  victory.  The  title,  "Saving  Washing 
ton's  Camp  at  Whitemarsh,"  gave  the  key 
to  the  story  :  the  woman  was  Lydia  Dar- 
ragh,  who  went  out  from  Philadelphia,  and 
gave  the  warning  that  enabled  the  Continen 
tal  army  to  repulse  the  assault  planned  by 
General  Howe.  And  Brown  was  deter 
mined  to  work  on  this  picture  as  he  never 
had  worked  before. 

Naturally,  McGilp  was  not  asleep  in  re 
gard  to  the  Philadelphia  competition  ;  and 
he  also  had  his  mind  set  on  winning  a  medal 
— and  with  it,  Rose.  His  picture  was  more 


20  COLOR  STUDIES. 

striking  than  Brown's,  but  infinitely  less 
pretentious  than  Sap  Green's  stupendous 
"Yorktown."  It  was  called  "  Raising  the 
Flag  at  Stony  Point,"  and  in  its  way  it  was 
an  uncommonly  good  thing.  The  time,  as 
in  Brown's  picture,  was  sunrise — the  sunrise 
following  the  night  of  General  Wayne's  gal 
lant  assault.  In  the  immediate  front  of  the 
picture  was  water,  tumbling  in  little  waves 
which  sparkled  in  the  sunlight ;  and  from 
this  rose  sharply  the  rocky  bank,  and  sheer 
above  the  bank  an  angle  of  the  fort.  Stand 
ing  on  the  parapet,  in  crisp  relief  against  the 
green-blue  sky,  was  "  Mad  Anthony  "  him 
self,  in  the  act  of  running  up  the  Continental 
flag  ;  while  at  his  feet  a  mass  of  red  upon 
the  gray  stones  of  the  parapet,  and  throw 
ing  a  rich  crimson  reflection  down  upon  the 
broken  water  below,  was  the  flag  of  the  con 
quered  foe.  Over  the  whole  picture  was  a 
flood  of  strong,  clear  light  that  emphasized 
the  spirited  action  and  elate  pose  of  the  sin 
gle  figure :  it  was  a  stirring  story  of  a  gallant 
fight  crowned  by  a  well-won  victory.  Ex- 


ROSE  MADDER.  21 

cept  that  the  values  of  the  lights  and  shades 
were  about  the  same  in  both,  McGilp's  and 
Brown's  pictures  had  absolutely  nothing  in 
common ;  and  while  Brown's  had  the  ad 
vantage  in  earnestness  and  depth  of  poetic 
feeling,  McGilp's,  being  bold  and  aggressive, 
was  much  more  likely  to  hit  the  popular 
taste. 

It  was  known  presently  among  the  artists 
that  both  men  had  entered  in  the  Philadel 
phia  race  ;  but  while  McGilp  made  no  secret 
of  his  "  Stony  Point,"  Brown  absolutely  re 
fused  to  let  his  subject  be  known.  He  kept 
his  door  locked,  and  the  few  men  whom  he 
admitted  now  and  then  saw  no  more  of  his 
work  than  the  curtain  that  hung  over  it, 
jealously. 

Not  a  word  passed  between  Brown  and 
McGilp  as  to  what  would  be  the  result  should 
either  of  them  win  a  medal,  but  each  man 
knew  what  the  other  was  working  for,  and 
each  felt  that  the  other's  success  meant  his 
own  defeat.  Not  that  Brown  believed  that 
McGilp  ever  could  win  Rose,  for  he  loved 


22  COLOR   STUDIES. 

Rose  himself  too  much  to  fancy,  even  for  a 
moment,  that  she  could  love  McGilp  under 
any  circumstances  ;  but  he  felt  that  unless 
there  was  enough  good  in  himself  to  enable 
him  to  take  one  of  the  three  medals,  his  ca 
reer  as  an  artist  might  as  well  come  defi 
nitely  to  an  end,  and  his  love  for  Rose  with 
it.  McGilp,  who  was  cool-headed  enough 
to  see  in  what  direction  Rose's  inclinations 
were  tending,  believed  that  in  his  own  suc 
cess,  coupled  with  Brown's  failure,  rested  his 
only  chance  of  having  Rose  so  much  as 
listen  to  him.  Therefore,  both  men  went  at 
their  work  with  all  their  strength,  and  put 
into  it  their  whole  hearts. 

Now  Brown  was  a  good  deal  laughed  at 
for  making  such  a  mystery  about  his  picture  ; 
but  he  knew  what  he  was  about,  and  the 
laughing  did  not  at  all  discomfit  him.  His 
purpose  was  a  diplomatic  one  :  that  he  might 
have  a  secret  in  common  with  Rose.  He 
knew  enough  of  the  theory  and  practice  of 
love-making  to  know  that  a  bond  of  this  sort 
counted  for  a  good  deal. 


ROSE   MADDER.  23 

As  soon  as  the  picture  was  fairly  in  his 
head,  he  decided  that  Rose,  and  Rose  alone, 
should  know  all  about  it.  So,  when  he  met 
her  coming  home  from  Jefferson  Market 
one  morning,  he  turned  back  to  carry  her 
market-basket,  and  to  tell  her  the  secret  that 
he  intended  should  be  his  first  parallel. 
And  he  made  such  quick  work  of  it  that  the 
secret  was  in  her  keeping  before  they  had 
passed  the  pretty  little  triangular  park  where 
Grove  Street  and  Christopher  Street  slant 
into  each  other.  Rose  now  never  looks  un 
der  the  archway  formed  by  the  trees  in  the 
little  park,  and  the  elm  and  willow  on  the 
sidewalk,  that  she  does  not  fancy  that  she 
sees  Lydia  Darragh  kneeling  there,  while 
Grove  Street  and  Christopher  Street  beyond 
widen  out  into  the  tent-dotted  valley  of 
Whitemarsh. 

Having  told  this  secret,  Brown  had  to 
steady  himself  sharply  that  he  might  not  tell 
the  other  secret  that  lay  on  the  very  end  of 
his  tongue — how  all  his  hope  of  the  prize 
really  was  hope  of  Rose  herself.  Possibly 


24  COLOR  STUDIES. 

Rose  had  a  feeling  sense  of  what  he  was  try 
ing  not  to  tell,  for  she  talked  so  much  about 
the  picture  that  he  had  no  chance  to  talk 
about  anything  else.  And  she  was  as  sym 
pathetic  as  even  Brown — who  wanted  a  good 
deal  of  sympathy — could  desire. 

After  that  Brown  managed  pretty  often  to 
meet  Rose  as  she  came  from  market ;  and 
Rose  did  not  resent  the  persistent  frequency 
of  these  purely  chance  encounters.  She  rea 
soned  with  herself  that  it  must  be  a  great 
comfort  to  him  to  have  anybody  to  talk  with 
about  his  work  and  hopes,  and  that  for  her 
to  refuse  to  listen  to  him,  since  he  had  hap 
pened  to  make  her  his  confidante,  would  be 
exceedingly  ungracious,  to  say  the  least  of 
it ;  which  reasoning,  if  a  trifle  too  general  in 
its  premises,  certainly  was  sound  in  its  con 
clusions.  And  by  good  generalship  she  al 
ways  managed  that  his  other  secret  should 
remain  untold — though  as  the  days  went  by 
she  found  this  to  be  an  increasingly  difficult 
task,  that  constantly  called  for  more  vigorous 
Defensive  tactics.  And  what  still  further 


ROSE  MADDER.  2$ 

complicated  matters  was  that  Rose  grew  less 
and  less  disposed  to  usedefensive  tactics  at  all. 

Brown  put  in  honest  work  on  his  picture. 
He  spent  a  couple  of  days  in  getting  his 
studies  on  the  border  of  the  Whitemarsh 
valley ;  and  he  got  up  morning  after  morn 
ing  at  unconscionable  hours,  so  as  to  be  in 
the  Park  at  sunrise  to  study  effects  of  early 
morning  light — and  mighty  puzzling  he  found 
them  !  Luckily,  his  sister,  Verona,  was  the 
type  that  he  needed  for  Lydia  Darragh,  and 
she  posed  for  him  with  all  the  good-will  in 
the  world ;  and  nobody  knows  what  a  deal 
of  good-will  is  required  in  posing  until  after 
trying  it  for  a  while. 

Under  Verona's  protection,  Rose  saw  the 
picture  now  and  then,  and  so  was  able  to 
talk  about  it  considerately  with  Brown  in  the 
course  of  their  walks.  And  these  walks 
came  to  be  a  good  deal  prolonged ;  for 
Brown  developed  a  notable  tendency  for 
taking  the  wrong  turns  when  they  were  go 
ing  home,  so  that  when  they  thought  they 
were  in  Grove  Street,  they  suddenly  would 


26  COLOR   STUDIES. 

find  themselves  drifting  down  on  Abingdon 
Place.  After  all,  though,  these  mistakes 
were  not  unnatural,  when  you  come  to  think 
what  a  desperately  crooked  region  Green 
wich  is.  That  people  should  go  astray  in  a 
part  of  the  town  so  hopelessly  topsy-turvy, 
that  in  it  Fourth  Street  crosses  Tenth  Street 
at  right  angles,  need  not  be  a  matter  for  sur 
prise.  What  was  a  little  surprising,  though, 
was  that  it  did  not  occur  to  Rose  that  inas 
much  as  Verona  now  knew  all  about  the 
picture,  Brown  no  longer  stood  in  very  ur 
gent  need  of  herself  as  a  confidante.  But  it 
certainly  is  a  fact  that  this  view  of  the  situa 
tion  never  once  crossed  her  mind. 

McGilp's  "  Stony  Point,"  meanwhile,  was 
getting  along  pretty  well,  too.  The  man  had 
a  great  deal  of  facility,  and  more  than  a  fair 
allowance  of  talent ;  and  he  never  had  worked 
so  hard  as  he  was  working  now.  Little  Sap 
Green,  who  had  a  great  fondness  for  know 
ing  all  that  was  going  on,  paid  frequent  visits 
to  his  studio,  and  volunteered  statements  of 
the  results  of  his  observations  to  Brown  : 


ROSE  MADDER.  2? 

"  It's  not  as  good  as  '  Yorktown,'  of  course, 
but  it's  a  mighty  good  picture,  Van.  He's 
got  in  his  lights  and  shades  in  a  way  that  I 
don't  believe  I  could  improve  on  myself,  and 
there's  lots  of  tremendous  color,  and  the  fig 
ure  is  as  strong  as  a  house.  He's  booked  for 
a  medal  as  sure  as  I  am  ;  and  I  do  hope,  old 
man,  that  this  thing  of  yours  you're  so  dark 
about  will  get  the  third.  Of  course,  you 
know,  Brown,  that  I  don't  a  bit  like  having 
to  run  my  work  against  yours  in  this  way. 
But  I  can't  help  it,  you  know ;  and  I  hope 
that  if  I  win,  and  you  don't,  you  wont  have 
any  ill-feeling  about  it.  And,  I  say,  Brown, 
what  are  you  going  to  do  about  a  frame  ? 
I've  been  to  see  Keyes  &  Stretcher,  and  the 
brutes  absolutely  refuse  to  let  me  have  one 
unless  I  pay  cash  down  ;  and  for  a  ten-by- 
eight  they  want  eighty  dollars.  They  might 
as  well  ask  me  to  pony  up  a  thousand  !  I 
offered  Keyes  a  lien  on  the  picture,  and  he 
had  the  indecency  to  say  that  the  security 
undoubtedly  was  big  enough,  but  it  wasn't 
marketable.  Do  you  know,  I'm  half  sorry  I 


28  COLOR  STUDIES. 

didn't  paint '  Washington  on  his  Death-bed  ' 
on  a  forty-by-sixty?  I've  got  a  forty-by- 
sixty  frame  on  my  '  Hector  at  the  Gates  of 
Troy,'  and  I  might  just  as  well  have  saved 
money  by  using  it  over  again." 

So  the  summer  drifted  along  pleasantly, 
and  Brown's  picture  daily  came  nearer  to  be 
ing  what  he  wanted  it  to  be.  He  knew,  of 
course,  that  he  never  could  realize  his  ideal, 
but  he  also  knew  that  his  picture  was  intrin 
sically  good.  It  was  a  long  way  ahead  of 
anything  that  he  had  ever  done.  Verona, 
who  was  not  a  bad  judge  of  a  picture,  ap 
proved  it ;  and,  what  was  more  to  the  pur 
pose,  so  did  Rose.  By  the  end  of  August  it 
practically  was  finished,  leaving  him  a  fort 
night  and  more  for  that  delicate  operation 
known  as  "  going  all  over  it" — in  the  course 
of  which  many  a  capital  picture  is  hopelessly 
spoiled. 

Brown  did  not  know,  when  he  got  up  at 
four  o'clock,  on  the  morning  of  the  28th  of 
August,  to  go  out  to  the  Park  for  a  final 
study  of  the  effects  of  early  sunlight,  that 


ROSE  MADDER.  29 

the  most  eventful  day  of  his  life  had  come  ; 
but  it  had.  He  was  in  such  a  hurry  to  get 
to  the  Park  before  the  sun  rose,  that  he  went 
without  his  coffee,  contenting  himself  with 
munching  a  bit  of  bread  as  he  walked  from 
the  Sixth  Avenue  entrance  along  the  shad 
owy  paths  in  the  fresh  coolness  of  the  early 
day.  Therefore  it  came  to  pass  that  when 
his  observations  were  ended — with  the  satis 
factory  result  of  showing  him  that  the  thing 
he  was  in  doubt  about  was  right — he  was 
aroused  to  the  fact  that  he  was  most  pro 
digiously  hungry.  And,  being  in  a  hopeful 
frame  of  mind,  he  decided  promptly  that  he 
would  spend  the  full  value  of  a  half-dollar  in 
getting  a  good  breakfast  at  the  Hungaria, 
before  going  home  to  his  work.  Not  ex 
actly  a  headlong  extravagance  this,  yet  hav 
ing  in  it  enough  of  extravagance  to  give 
to  the  breakfast  an  agreeable  spice  of  ad 
venture. 

It  was  a  good  while  after  eight  o'clock 
when  he  got  home  ;  yet,  notwithstanding  the 
lateness  of  the  hour,  he  began  the  ascent  of 


3O  COLOR  STUDIES. 

the  stairs  leisurely,  and  with  the  air  of  a 
man,  who,  having  breakfasted  well,  is  con 
tented  with  himself  and  all  the  world.  But 
at  the  third  step  his  movements  suddenly 
were  vastly  accelerated.  From  one  of  the 
floors  above  him  sounded  a  scream  and  a 
cry  for  help — and  the  voice  crying  for  help 
was  the  voice  of  his  Rose ! 

He  went  up  the  steps  three  at  a  time, 
hearing  as  he  went  yet  more  screams,  and 
the  sound  of  opening  doors,  and  of  hurrying 
feet,  which  showed  that  everybody  in  the 
building  was  aroused.  And  when  he  got  to 
the  fourth  floor  he  found  that  his  own  studio 
was  the  centre  of  the  commotion — and  a 
pretty  kettle  of  fish  he  found  there  !  The 
easel,  with  Lydia  Darragh  upon  it,  was  lying 
flat  upon  the  floor,  and  in  front  of  it — look 
ing,  as  he  has  since  told  her,  like  a  de 
lightful  blue-eyed  enraged  lioness  defending 
her  cubs — was  Rose.  She  had  her  big  pie- 
making  apron  on,  and  her  sleeves  were  rolled 
up,  and  she  had  dabs  of  flour  all  over  her 
(for  the  life  of  him  he  could  not  keep  a  grin- 


ROSE  MADDER.  31 

ning  recollection  of  her  father's  horrible 
"Bread-winner"  out  of  his  mind),  and  in 
one  of  her  beautiful,  plump  arms  was  a  red 
gash,  and  all  her  lovely  arm  was  bloody,  and 
there  was  blood  upon  her  floury  apron  and 
on  the  floor.  A  little  on  one  side  was  old 
Cremnitz  White — he  was  a  big  old  fellow, 
with  lots  of  strength  left  in  him — with  his 
hand  twisted  so  tight  in  McGilp's  collar  that 
McGilp's  sleek  face  was  growing  purple,  and 
his  eyes  were  protruding  ominously  ;  and 
old  Cremnitz's  long  gray  beard  was  fairly 
wagging  with  righteous  rage.  Madder  was 
doing  his  best  to  make  Cremnitz  let  go — for 
the  life  was  being  choked  out  of  McGilp 
rapidly — and  little  Sap  Green  was  dancing 
around  the  room  in  a  perfect  whirl  of  excite 
ment,  and  saying  at  every  step,  "  Oh,  dear  ! " 
Three  or  four  other  men  entered  the  room 
at  Brown's  heels,  and  stopped  just  inside 
the  doorway,  in  wonder  of  what  the  dickens 
it  all  could  mean. 

It  was  not  a  time  for  standing  on  ceremony. 
Brown  had  Rose  in  his  arms  in  a  moment. 


32  COLOR   STUDIES. 

"  My  darling  !     What  has  happened  ?  " 

And   for    answer   Rose   threw   her    arms 
around  his  neck  (the  coat  with  the  blood 
stain  on  the  left  shoulder  he  will  cherish  to ' 
his  dying  day),  and  laid  her  head  down  on 
his  breast,  and  sobbed  forth : 

"He— the  wicked  villain!  Oh!  he's 
ruined  it.  But — but,  indeed,  I  did  my  best 
to  stop  him.  To  think  of  poor,  dear  Lydia 
Darragh  with  her  two  lovely  eyes  poked  out, 
and  the  rest  of  her  all  cut  to  pieces  !  Oh, 
the  wretch  !  Please,  please  let  Mr.  White 
choke  him,  papa.  But  no  matter  if  you 
have  lost  the  medal,  dear,  you — you  shall 
have  me  all  the  same.  For  I  love  you  with 
all  my  heart,  and  I  hate  him,  and  I  always 
have  hated  him.  There  !  "  (From  which 
utterance,  especially  from  that  part  of  it  re 
lating  to  herself  and  the  medals,  the  infer 
ence  is  a  fair  one  that  Verona  Brown  had 
chatterboxed  away  her  brother's  secret  to 
Rose,  so  that  for  ever  so  long  it  had  been 
no  secret  at  all  !) 

"  Now,  sir !     What  have  you  got  to  say 


ROSE  MADDER.  33 

for  yourself?  "  asked  old  Madder,  sternly. 
He  had  managed  to  drag  Cremnitz  off  by 
this  time,  and  McGilp  stood  in  one  corner 
of  the  room  gasping  and  rubbing  his  throat 
with  his  hand.  (It  was  a  month  and  more 
before  he  could  swallow  anything  without  a 
painful  reminder  of  the  exceeding  boniness 
of  Cremnitz's  knuckles.) 

"  Nothing  that  will  do  any  good.  I'm 
beaten,  among  you  all,  and  that's  the  end  of 
it.  But  I  will  say  this,  though  :  I  didn't 
mean  to  cut  Brown's  picture  when  I  came  in 
here.  I  didn't  mean  to  come  in  here  at  all. 
He  went  out  in  a  hurry,  I  suppose,  for  as  I 
came  along  the  passage  I  found  his  door 
open.  I  knew  that  he  had  gone  out,  for  he 
waked  me  up  with  his  confounded  noise,  and 
I  had  heard  him  go  down-stairs.  So  I  knew 
that  he  couldn't  stop  me,  and  I  came  in  to 
see  his  picture.  When  I  found  that  it  was 
better  than  mine — for  it  was  better,  a  good 
deal  better — I  couldn't  help  what  I  did.  I 
knew  that  if  either  of  us  got  one  of  the 
Philadelphia  medals,  it  would  not  be  me  ; 
3 


34  COLOR  STUDIES. 

and  I  knew  what  that  meant  for  both  of  us. 
You  don't  know  what  it  would  have  meant, 
and  I  don't  intend  to  tell  you.  I  got  into  a 
rage  over  it  all,  and  the  first  thing  that  I 
knew  I  had  picked  up  his  palette-knife,  and 
had  run  it  through  the  picture  a  dozen  times. 
Then  she  came  down-stairs,  and  saw  me 
through  the  open  door,  and  what  I  was  do 
ing,  and  came  in  and  tried  to  stop  me.  I 
was  nearly  crazy,  I  suppose,  for  I  fought 
with  her,  and  somehow  she  got  that  cut  in 
her  arm.  I  don't  imagine  that  any  of  you, 
even  now,  think  that  I  cut  her  on  purpose. 
Then  White  came  in  and  grabbed  me,  and 
the  rest  of  you  after  him,  and  you  know 
what  happened  better  than  I  do,  for  he 
came  precious  near  to  murdering  me. 

"And,  now,  what  are  you  going  to  do 
with  me  ?  Take  me  around  to  the  Jefferson 
Market  Police  Court,  and  charge  me  with 
aggravated  assault  and  battery  ?  You  can 
do  it  if  you  want  to.  You  are  on  top." 

There  was  a  rather  awkward  pause  after 
this  direct  question.  Certainly,  the  course 


ROSE  MADDER.  35 

that  McGilp  suggested  was  the  proper  one  to 
take  ;  but  nobody,  except  Cremnitz  White, 
wanted  to  take  it.  For  bringing  Rose  into 
a  police  court,  and  her  name  into  the  news 
papers,  was  not  to  be  thought  of.  And  so, 
when  Rose — her  father  had  washed  her  arm 
in  Brown's  basin,  and  had  let  Brown  help 
him,  and  they  were  tying  up  the  cut  in 
clean  paint-rags — said  to  let  him  go,  every 
body  but  Cremnitz  felt  relieved. 

Half  swaggering,  half  slinking,  McGilp 
went  out  of  the  room  ;  and  enough  de 
cency  remained  in  him  to  make  him  leave 
town  forthwith.  His  unfinished  "  Stony 
Point "  went  with  him.  Presumably,  he 
did  not  complete  it,  for  when  the  Phila 
delphia  exhibition  opened  it  was  not  there. 
As  he  went  down  the  stairs,  Cremnitz  White 
looked  reproachfully  at  Madder,  and  ex 
claimed  : 

"  Ach,  mein  Gott,  Madter  !  Fhy  dit  yoo 
shoost  not  let  me  shoke  him,  and  pe  done 
mit  it  ?  For  him  shoking  woult  haf  been 
most  goot — most  goot  inteed  !  " 


36  COLOR  STUDIES. 

So  "  Saving  Washington's  Camp  at  White- 
marsh  "  never  entered  into  the  Philadelphia 
competition  at  all.  It  was  not,  to  be  sure, 
quite  so  badly  cut  up  as  Rose  in  her  excite 
ment  had  declared  it  to  be ;  but  it  was  so 
far  gone  that  exhibiting  it  in  public  was  not 
to  be  thought  of.  However,  there  was  a 
private  exhibition  of  it  the  next  day  in 
Brown's  studio,  that  bore  better  fruit  than 
if  it  had  gone  to  Philadelphia,  and  had  taken 
the  three-thousand-dollar  Temple  prize. 

The  organizer  of  this  exhibition  was  Ve 
rona,  and  the  unit  who  attended  it  was  Mr. 
Mangan  Brown.  Verona,  as  has  already 
been  hinted,  had  rather  a  faculty  for  telling 
things,  and  immediately  after  the  catastrophe 
had  become  known  to  her  she  set  off  valor- 
ously  for  the  Swamp,  sought  out  Uncle 
Mangan  among  his  kips  and  hides,  and  told 
him  precisely  what  had  happened  to  his 
nephew,  and  begged  him  to  come  up  and 
look  at  the  picture,  with  the  wreck  of  which, 
seemingly,  everything  had  been  lost.  Then 
she  vigorously  urged  her  brother  to  make 


KOSE  MADDEK.  tf 

Lydia  Darragh  as  presentable  as  possible, 
with  careful  gumming  of  linen  on  the  back, 
and  with  touches  of  paint  on  the  ragged 
edges  of  cut  canvas  ;  and  her  urging  was 
not  wholly  unsuccessful.  The  picture  was  a 
sad  object  still,  but  enough  of  its  beauty  and 
worth  remained  to  convince  even  a  very 
skeptical  person  that  the  man  who  had 
painted  it  had  a  right  to  make  a  profession 
of  art.  And  Uncle  Mangan,  who  until  then 
had  been  as  skeptical  as  he  well  could  be  in 
regard  to  his  nephew's  self-elected  vocation, 
saw  it  and  was  convinced. 

"  I  have  always  thought,  Van,  that  you 
were  a  fool,"  said  Uncle  Mangan,  with  a 
cheerful  frankness  and  a  most  evident  sin 
cerity.  "  But  now  I  think  that  the  fool  of 
the  family  has  been  quite  a  different  person. 
So  the  big  prize,  the  one  that  you  didn't 
expect  to  get,  is  three  thousand  dollars  ? 
Well,  you  just  shall  get  it,  as  soon  as  I  can 
go  down  town  and  write  the  check.  But 
you  must  paint  the  picture  over  again,  for  I 
want  it.  It's  the  most  beautiful  thing  that 


38  COLOR  STUDIES. 

I  ever  saw,  by  gad  !  And  the  directors  of 
our  bank  last  week  voted  five  hundred  dol 
lars  to  have  my  portrait  painted,  to  go  with 
the  set  of  presidents,  and  you  shall  do  that 
too.  And  I  always  have  wanted  a  portrait 
of  your  aunt  Caledonia,  the  only  sister  I 
have  in  the  world,  and  you  shall  do  that. 
And  my  partner,  Gamboge,  said  only  the 
other  day  that  he  wanted  some  pictures  for 
his  new  house,  and  you  shall  do  those.  And 
we  want  two  or  three  pictures  for  the  new 
room  at  the  club,  and  you  shall  do  one  of 
them.  And — and  I'll  make  it  my  business, 
Van,  to  see  that  you  have  all  the  work  you 
want  as  long  as  I  live  ;  and  when  I  die  you'll 
find  that  you  can  work  or  not,  just  as  you 
please,  my  boy.  And  I'm  proud  of  you, 
Van,  for  the  way  in  which  you've  worked 
along  all  these  years  without  a  scrap  of  en 
couragement  from  those  who  ought  to  have 
encouraged  you  most.  And  I'm  ashamed 
of  myself  for  the  way  in  which  I've  stood  off, 
like  a  regular  priest  and  Levite,  from  my 
own  dead  brother  Cappagh's  son. 


ROSE  MADDER.  39 

"  And  now  where's  this  little  girl  who 
fought  and  bled  for  you  like  such  a  regular 
heroine  ?  For  she  will  be  a  Brown,  too, 
before  long,  and  I  want  to  give  her  the  kiss 
that  I  have  a  right  to  give  her  ;  and  that — 
God  bless  her  ! — she  shall  have  with  all  my 
heart ! " 

"  THAT  I  will  be  the  best  man  of  you,  my 
dear  Brown,  you  know  well  would  be  to  me 
much  joy.  But  perceive  !  "  and  Jaune  d'An- 
timoine  slowly  turned  himself  about,  that 
the  worst  might  be  known  of  the  many  shab- 
binesses  of  his  very  ancient  suit  of  clothes. 
''And  these  are  beyond  all  the  best  that  I 
do  own  of  all  the  world,  my  Brown.  What 
would  you  'ave  ?  For  your  wedding,  in 
such  clothings  as  these,  I  should  be  one 
'orror;  one — I  do  riot  know  the  English — 
one  fyouvantail.  And  in  the  small  month 
that  does  pass  before  your  wedding  comes, 
what  can  be  for  me  to  do  that  such  vast 
moneys  as  must  be  paid  for  new  clothings 
shall  be  mine  ?  No,  my  good  friend,  'e  is 


4O  COLOR  STUDIES. 

not  posseeble  :  though  to  say  such  does  de 
stroy  my  'art !  " 

And  in  view  of  this  very  explicit  and  very 
reasonable  statement  of  his  inability  to  act 
in  the  premises,  quite  the  most  notable  feat 
ure  of  the  wedding  was  Jaune  d'Antimoine's 
brilliant  discharge  of  the  functions  of  best 
man,  in  a  resplendent  suit  of  clothes  that 
made  him  the  delight  of  Rose  Carthame's 
eyes,  and  the  admiration  of  all  Greenwich 
for  many,  many  days. 

The  wedding  was  a  quiet  affair  in  St. 
Luke's  Church,  with  a  lunch  in  old  Madder's 
studio  afterward — at  which  Uncle  Mangan 
made  a  speech  that  was  all  the  better  be 
cause  he  choked  a  good  deal  over  it,  and 
had  to  wipe  his  eyes  with  a  big  silk  handker 
chief  two  or  three  times,  and  that  came  to  an 
end  by  his  fairly  breaking  down.  And  Jaune 
d'Antimoine,  clad  in  his  garments  of  truly 
Oriental  magnificence,  gave  the  health  of  the 
bridemaids — Rose  Carthame  and  Verona  — 
in  a  most  wonderful  mingling  of  French  and 
English ;  and  Cremnitz  White,  not  trusting 


ROSE   MADDER.  41 

himself  in  English  at  all,  made  a  most  elo 
quent  and  feeling  speech  in  German,  that 
nobody  understood,  and  that  was  applauded 
rapturously  ;  and  old  Madder  made  a  speech 
in  which  he  got  miles  away  from  the  wed 
ding  into  a  disquisition  upon  the  nobility 
and  lastingness  of  Art  that  was  edifying  to 
listen  to  ;  and  little  Sap  Green  was  the  only 
person  present  who  was  thoroughly  and 
persistently  melancholy  from  first  to  last. 
There  was  good  reason  for  Sap  Green's 
melancholy.  It  was  bad  enough  for  him  to 
lose  Rose,  but  it  was  worse  still  to  know 
that  a  blight  had  fallen  upon  his  hopes  of 
fame  :  for  his  "  Yorktown  "  never  went  to 
Philadelphia,  and  his  certainty  of  a  medal 
was  dashed  utterly,  for  the  sorry  reason  that 
he  had  been  unable  to  pay  for  the  eight-by- 
ten-foot  frame  ! 


JAUNE  D'ANTIMOINE. 

DOWN  Greenwich  way — that  is  to  say, 
about  in  the  heart  of  the  city  of  New 
York — in  a  room  with  a  glaring  south  light 
that  made  even  the  thought  of  painting  in  it 
send  shivers  all  over  you,  Jaune  d'Antimoine 
lived  and  labored  in  the  service  of  Art. 

By  all  odds,  it  was  the  very  worst  room  in 
the  whole  building  ;  and  that  was  precisely 
the  reason  why  Jaune  d'Antimoine  had 
chosen  it,  for  the  rent  was  next  to  nothing  : 
he  would  have  preferred  a  room  that  rented 
for  even  less.  It  certainly  was  a  forlorn- 
looking  place.  There  was  no  furniture  in  it 
worth  speaking  of;  it  was  cheerless,  deso 
late.  A  lot  of  studies  of  animals  were  stuck 
against  the  Avails,  and  a  couple  of  finished 
pictures — a  lioness  with  her  cubs,  and  a  span 
of  stunning  draught-horses — stood  in  one 


JAUNE  D'ANTIMOINE.  43 

corner,  frameless.  There  was  good  work  in 
the  studies,  and  the  pictures  really  were 
capital — a  fact  that  Jaune  himself  recognized, 
and  that  made  him  feel  all  the  more  dismal 
because  they  so  persistently  remained  un 
sold.  Indeed,  this  animal-painter  was  hav 
ing  a  pretty  hard  time  of  it,  and  as  he  sat 
there  day  after  day  in  the  shocking  light, 
doing  honest  work  and  getting  no  return  for 
it,  he  could  not  help  growing  desperately 
blue. 

But  to-day  Jaune  d'Antimoine  was  not 
blue,  for  of  a  sudden  he  had  come  to  be 
stayed  by  a  lofty  purpose  and  upheld  by  a 
high  resolve  :  and  his  purpose  and  resolve 
were  that  within  one  month's  time  he  would 
gain  for  himself  a  new  suit  of  clothes  ! 
There  were  several  excellent  reasons  which 
together  served  to  fortify  him  in  his  exalted 
resolution.  The  most  careless  observer 
could  not  fail  to  perceive  that  the  clothes 
which  he  wore — and  which  were  incompara 
bly  superior  to  certain  others  which  he  pos 
sessed  but  did  not  wear — were  sadly  shabby  ; 


44  COLOR   STUDIES. 

and  Vandyke  Brown  had  asked  him  to  be 
best  man  at  his  wedding  ;  and  further — and 
this  was  the  strongest  reason  of  all — Jaune 
d'Antimoine  longed,  from  the  very  depths  of 
his  soul,  to  make  himself  pleasing  in  the  eyes 
of  Rose  Carthame. 

How  she  managed  it  none  but  herself 
knew;  but  this  charming  young  person, 
although  the  daughter  of  a  widowly  exile  of 
France  who  made  an  uncertain  living  by 
letting  lodgings  in  the  region  between  south 
and  west  of  Washington  Square,  always 
managed  to  dress  herself  delightfully.  It  is 
true  that  feminine  analysis  might  reveal  the 
fact  that  the  materials  of  which  her  gowns 
were  made  were  of  the  cheapest  product  of 
the  loom  ;  yet  was  feminine  envy  aroused — 
yea,  even  in  the  dignified  portion  of  Fifth 
Avenue  that  lies  not  south  but  north  of 
Washington  Square — by  the  undeniable 
style  of  these  same  gowns,  and  by  their 
charming  accord  with  the  stylish  gait  and  air 
of  the  trig  little  body  who  wore  them. 
Therefore  it  was  that  when  Monsieur  Jaune 


JAUNE  D'ANTIMOINE,  45 

graciously  was  permitted  to  accompany 
Mademoiselle  Rose  in  her  jaunts  into  the 
grand  quarter  of  the  town,  the  propriety  of 
her  garments  and  the  impropriety  of  his  own 
brought  a  sense  of  desolation  upon  his  spirit 
and  a  great  heaviness  upon  his  loyal  heart. 

For  Jaune  loved  Rose  absolutely  to  dis 
traction.  To  say  that  he  would  have  laid 
his  coat  in  the  mud  for  her  to  walk  over 
does  not — the  condition  of  the  coat  being 
remembered — imply  a  very  superior  sort  of 
devotion.  He  would  have  done  more  than 
this  :  he  would  have  laid  himself  in  the  mud, 
and  most  gladly,  that  he  might  have  pre 
served  from  contamination  her  single  pair  of 
nice  shoes.  Even  a  cool  and  unprejudiced 
person,  being  permitted  to  see  these  shoes — 
and  he  certainly  would  have  been,  for  Rose 
made  anything  but  a  mystery  of  them — 
would  have  declared  that  such  gallant  sacri 
fice  was  well  bestowed. 

The  ardor  of  Jaune's  passion  was  increased 
— as  has  been  common  in  love  matters  ever 
since  the  world  began — by  the  knowledge 


46  COLOR   STUDIES. 

that  he  had  a  rival ;  and  this  rival  was  a 
most  dangerous  rival,  being  none  other 
than  Madame  Carthame's  second-story-front 
lodger,  the  Count  Siccatif  de  Courtray. 
Simply  to  be  the  second-story-front  lodger 
carries  with  it  a  most  notable  distinction  in 
a  lodging-house  ;  but  to  be  that  and  a  count 
too  was  a  combination  of  splendors  that 
placed  Jaune's  rival  on  a  social  pinnacle  and 
kept  him  there.  Not  that  counts  are  rare  in 
the  region  between  west  and  south  of  Wash 
ington  Square  ;  on  the  contrary,  they  are 
rather  astonishingly  plentiful.  But  the  sort 
of  count  who  is  very  rare  indeed  there  is  the 
count  who  pays  his  way  as  he  goes  along. 
Now,  in  the  matter  of  payments,  at  least  so 
far  as  Madame  Carthame  was  concerned, 
the  Count  Siccatif  de  Courtray  was  ex 
emplary. 

That  there  was  something  of  a  mys 
tery  about  this  nobleman  was  undeniable. 
Among  other  things,  he  had  stated  that  he 
was  a  relative  of  the  Siccatifs  of  Harlem — 
the  old  family  established  here  in  New  Am- 


JAUNE  D'ANTIMOINE.  47 

sterdam  in  the  early  days  of  the  Dutch  Col 
ony.  Persons  disposed  to  comment  invidi 
ously  upon  this  asserted  relationship,  and 
such  there  were,  did  not  fail  to  draw  atten 
tion  to  the  fact  that  the  Harlem  Siccatifs, 
without  exception,  were  fair,  while  the  Count 
Siccatif  de  Courtray  was  strikingly  dark ; 
and  to  the  further  fact  that,  if  the  distin 
guished  American  family  really  was  akin  to 
the  Count,  its  several  members  were  most 
harmoniously  agreed  to  give  him  the  cold 
shoulder.  With  these  malicious  whisper 
ings,  however,  Madame  Carthame  did  not 
concern  herself.  She  was  content,  more 
than  content,  to  take  the  Count  as  he  was, 
and  at  his  own  valuation.  That  he  was  a 
proscribed  Bonapartist,  as  he  declared  him 
self  to  be,  seemed  to  her  a  reasonable  and 
entirely  credible  statement ;  and  it  certainly 
had  the  effect  of  creating  about  him  a  halo 
of  romance.  Though  not  proscribed,  Mad 
ame  Carthame  herself  was  a  Bonapartist,  and 
a  most  ardent  one ;  a  fact,  it  may  be  ob 
served,  concerning  which  the  Count  assured 


48  COLOR  STUDIES. 

himself  prior  to  the  avowal  of  his  own  politi 
cal  convictions.  When,  on  the  2Oth  of 
April,  he  came  home  wearing  a  cluster  of 
violets  in  his  button-hole,  and  bearing  also  a 
bunch  of  these  Imperial  flowers  for  Madame 
Carthame,  and  with  the  presentation  con 
fessed  his  own  imperialistic  faith  and  touched 
gloomily  upon  the  sorry  reward  that  it  had 
brought  him — when  this  event  occurred, 
Madame  Carthame's  kindly  feelings  toward 
her  second-floor  lodger  were  resolved  into 
an  abiding  faith  and  high  esteem.  It  was 
upon  this  auspicious  day  that  the  conviction 
took  firm  root  in  her  mind  that  the  Count 
Siccatif  de  Courtray  was  the  heaven-sent 
husband  for  her  daughter  Rose. 

That  Rose  approved  this  ambitious  matri 
monial  project  of  her  mother's  was  a  matter 
open  to  doubt ;  at  least  her  conduct  was  such 
that  two  diametrically  opposite  views  were 
entertained  in  regard  to  her  intentions.  On 
the  one  hand,  Madame  Carthame  and  the 
Count  Siccatif  de  Courtray  believed  that  she 
had  made  up  her  mind  to  live  in  her  mother's 


JAUNE  D'ANTIMOINE,  49 

own  second-story  front  and  be  a  countess. 
On  the  other  hand,  Jaime  d'Antimoine, 
whose  wish,  perhaps,  was  father  to  his 
thought,  believed  that  she  would  not  do  any 
thing  of  the  sort.  Jaune  gladly  would  have 
believed,  also,  that  she  cherished  matrimo 
nial  intentions  in  quite  a  different,  namely, 
an  artistic,  direction  ;  but  he  was  a  modest 
young  fellow,  and  suffered  his  hopes  to  be 
greatly  diluted  by  his  fears.  And,  in  truth, 
the  conduct  of  Rose  was  so  perplexing,  at 
times  so  atrociously  exasperating,  that  a 
person  much  more  deeply  versed  in  women's 
ways  than  this  young  painter  was,  very  well 
might  have  been  puzzled  hopelessly ;  for  if 
ever  a  born  flirt  came  out  of  France,  that 
flirt  was  Rose  Carthame. 

Of  one  thing,  however,  Jaune  was  con 
vinced  :  that  unless  something  of  a  positive 
nature  was  done,  and  done  speedily,  for  the 
improvement  of  his  outward  man,  his  chance 
of  success  would  be  gone  forever.  Already, 
Madame  Carthame  eyed  his  seedy  garments 
askance  ;  already,  for  Rose  had  admitted  the 
4 


5O  COLOR  STUDIES. 

truth  of  his  suspicions  in  this  dismal  direc 
tion,  Madame  Carthame  had  instituted  most 
unfavorable  comparisons  between  his  own 
chronic  shabbiness  and  the  no  less  chronic 
splendor  of  the  Count  Siccatif  de  Courtray. 
Therefore,  it  came  to  pass — out  of  his  ab 
stract  need  for  presentable  habiliments,  out 
of  his  desire  to  appear  in  creditable  form  ac 
Vandyke  Brown's  wedding,  and,  more  than 
all  else,  out  of  his  love  for  Rose — that  Jaune 
d'Antimoine  registered  a  mighty  oath  before 
high  heaven  that  within  a  month's  time  a 
new  suit  of  clothes  should  be  his  ! 

Yet  the  chances  are  that  he  would  hav. 
gone  down  Christopher  Street  to  the  North 
River,  and  still  further  down,  even  into  a 
watery  grave — as  he  very  frequently  thought 
of  doing  during  this  melancholy  period  of 
his  existence — had  not  his  fortunes  suddenly 
been  irradiated  by  the  birth  in  his  mind  of  a 
happy  thought.  It  came  to  him  in  this  wise : 
He  was  standing  drearily  in  front  of  a  ready- 
made  clothing  store  on  Broadway,  sadly 
contemplating  a  wooden  figure  clad  in  pre- 


JAUNE  D'ANTIMOINE.  5 1 

cisely  the  morning  suit  for  which  his  soul 
panted,  when  suddenly  something  gave  him 
a  whack  in  the  back.  Turning  sharply,  and 
making  use  of  an  exclamation  not  to  be 
found  in  the  French  dictionaries  compiled 
for  the  use  of  young  ladies'  boarding-schools, 
he  perceived  a  wooden  frame-work,  from  the 
lower  end  of  which  protruded  the  legs  of  a 
man.  From  a  cleft  in  the  upper  portion  of 
the  frame-work  came  the  apologetic  utter 
ance,  "Didn't  mean  ter  hit  yer,  boss,"  and 
then  the  structure  moved  slowly  away 
through  the  throng.  Over  its  four  sides,  he 
observed,  were  blazoned  announcements  of 
the  excellences  of  the  garments  manufact 
ured  by  the  very  clothing  establishment  in 
front  of  which  he  stood. 

The  thought  came  idly  into  his  mind  that 
this  method  of  advertising  was  clumsy,  and 
not  especially  effective  ;  followed  by  the 
further  thought  that  a  much  better  plan 
would  be  to  set  agoing  upon  the  streets  a 
really  gentlemanly-looking  man,  clad  in  the 
best  garments  that  the  tailoring  people 


52  COLOR  STUDIES. 

manufactured — while  a  handsome  sign  upon 
the  man's  back,  or  a  silken  banner  proudly 
borne  aloft,  should  tell  where  the  clothes 
were  made,  and  how,  for  two  weeks  only, 
clothes  equally  excellent  could  be  bought 
there  at  a  tremendous  sacrifice.  And  then 
came  into  his  mind  the  great  thought  of  his 
life  :  he  would  disguise  himself  by  changing 
his  blonde  hair  and  beard  to  gray,  and  by 
wearing  dark  eye-glasses,  and  thus  disguised 
he  would  be  that  man  !  Detection  he  be 
lieved  to  be  impossible,  for  merely  dressing 
himself  in  respectable  clothes  almost  would 
suffice  to  prevent  his  recognition  by  even 
the  nearest  of  his  friends.  With  that  prompt 
decision  which  is  the  sure  sign  of  genius 
backed  by  force  of  character,  he  paused  no 
longer  to  consider.  He  acted.  With  a  firm 
step  he  entered  the  clothing  establishment ; 
with  dignity  demanded  a  personal  interview 
with  its  roprietor ;  with  eloquence  present 
ed  to  that  personage  his  scheme. 

"  You  will  understand,  sare,"  he  said,  in 
conclusion,  "  that  these  clothes  such  as  yours 


JAUNE  D'ANTIMOINE.  53 

see  themselves  in  the  best  way  when  they 
are  carried  by  a  man  very  well  made,  and 
who  'as  the  air  comme  il  faut.  I  'ave  not 
the  custom  to  say  that  I  am  justly  that  man. 
But  now  we  talk  of  affaires.  Look  at  me 
and  see  !  "  And  so  speaking,  he  drew  him 
self  up  his  full  six  feet,  and  turned  slowly 
around.  There  could  not  be  any  question 
about  it  :  a  handsomer,  a  more  distinguished- 
looking  man  was  not  to  be  found  in  all  New 
York.  With  the  added  dignity  of  age,  his 
look  of  distinction  would  be  but  increased. 

The  great  head  of  the  great  tailoring 
establishment  was  visibly  affected.  Original 
devices  in  advertising  had  been  the  making 
of  him.  He  perceived  that  the  device  now 
suggested  to  him  was  superior  to  anything 
that  his  own  genius  had  struck  out.  "  It's 
a  pretty  good  plan,"  he  said,  meditatively. 
"  What  do  you  want  for  carrying  it  out  ?  " 

"For  you  to  serve  two  weeks,  I  ask  but 
the  clothes  I  go  to  wear." 

For  a  moment  the  tailor  paused.  In  that 
moment  the  destinies  of  Jaune  d'Antimoine, 


54  COLOR  STUDIES. 

of  Rose  Carthame,  of  the  Count  Siccatif  de 
Courtray,  hung  in  the  balance.  It  was  life 
or  death.  Jaune  felt  his  heart  beating  like  a 
trip-hammer.  There  was  upon  him  a  feeling 
of  suffocation.  The  silence  seemed  intermi 
nable  ;  and  the  longer  it  lasted,  the  more 
did  he  feel  that  his  chances  of  success  were 
oozing  away,  that  the  crisis  of  his  life  was 
going  against  him.  Darkness,  the  darkness 
of  desolate  despair,  settled  down  upon  his 
soul.  Mechanically  he  felt  in  his  waistcoat 
pocket  for  a  five-cent  piece  that  he  believed 
to  be  there — for  the  stillness,  the  restful  ob 
livion  of  the  North  River  were  in  his  mind. 
His  fingers  clutched  the  coin  convulsively, 
thankfully.  At  least  he  would  not  be  com 
pelled  to  walk  down  Christopher  Street  to 
his  death  :  he  could  pay  his  way  to  eternity 
in  the  one-horse  car.  Yet  even  while  the 
blackness  of  shattered  hope  seemed  to  be 
closing  him  in  irrevocably,  the  glad  light 
came  again.  As  the  voice  of  an  angel, 
sounded  the  voice  of  the  tailor ;  and  the 
words  which  the  tailor  spake  were  these : 


JAUNE  D'ANTIMOINE.  5$ 

"  Young  man,  it's  a  bargain  !  " 

But  the  tailor,  upon  whom  Heaven  had 
bestowed  shrewdness  to  an  extraordinary 
degree,  perceived  in  the  plan  proposed  to 
him  higher,  more  artistic  possibilities  than 
had  been  perceived  in  it  by  its  inventor. 
There  was  a  dramatic  instinct,  an  apprecia 
tion  of  surprise,  of  climax,  in  this  man's 
mind  that  he  proceeded  to  apply  to  the  ex 
isting  situation.  With  a  wave  of  his  hand  he 
banished  the  suggested  sign  on  the  walking- 
advertiser's  back,  and  the  suggested  silken 
banner.  His  plan  at  once  was  simpler  and 
more  profound.  Dressed  in  the  highest 
style  of  art,  Jaune  was  to  walk  Broadway 
daily  between  the  hours  of  II  A.M.  and  2 
P.M.  He  was  to  walk  slowly;  he  was  to 
look  searchingly  in  the  faces  of  all  young 
women  of  about  the  age  of  twenty  years ; 
he  was  to  wear,  over  and  above  his  garments 
of  price,  an  air  of  confirmed  melancholy. 
That  was  all. 

"  But  of  the  advertisement  ?     'Ow " 

"  Now,  never  you  mind  about  the  adver- 


56  COLOR   STUDIES. 

tisement,  young  man.  Where  that  is  going 
to  come  in  is  my  business.  But  you  can  just 
bet  your  bottom  dollar  that  I  don't  intend 
to  lose  any  money  on  you.  All  that  you 
have  to  do  is  just  what  I've  told  you;  and 
to  be  well  dressed,  and  walk  up  and  down 
Broadway  for  three  hours  every  day,  and 
look  in  all  the  girls'  faces,  don't  strike  me  as 
being  the  hardest  work  that  you  might  be 
set  at.  Now  come  along  and  be  measured, 
and  day  after  to-morrow  you  shall  begin." 

As  Jaune  walked  slowly  homeward  to  his 
dismal  studio,  he  meditated  deeply  upon  the 
adventure  before  him.  He  did  not  fancy  it 
at  all ;  but  it  was  the  means  to  an  end,  and 
he  was  braced  morally  to  go  through  with  it 
without  flinching.  For  the  chance  of  win 
ning  Rose  he  would  have  stormed  a  battery 
single-handed  ;  and  not  a  bit  more  of  moral 
courage  would  have  been  needed  for  such 
desperate  work  than  was  needed  for  the  exe 
cution  of  the  bloodless  but  soul-trying  pro 
ject  that  he  had  in  hand.  For  the  life  and 
spirit  of  him,  though,  he  could  not  see  how 


JAUNE  D'ANTIMOINE.  $? 

the  tailor  was  to  get  any  good  out  of  this 
magnificent  masquerading. 

IN  one  of  the  evening  papers,  about  a 
week  later,  there  appeared  a  half-column 
romance  that  quite  took  Jaune  d' Antimoine's 
breath  away.  It  began  with  a  reference  to 
the  distinguished  elderly  gentleman  who, 
during  the  past  week,  had  been  seen  daily 
upon  Broadway  about  the  hour  of  noon  ; 
who  gazed  with  such  intense  though  respect 
ful  curiosity  into  every  young  woman's  face  ; 
who,  in  the  gay  crowd,  was  conspicuous  not 
less  by  the  elegance  of  his  dress  than  by  his 
air  of  profound  melancholy.  Then  briefly, 
but  precisely,  the  sorrowful  story  of  the 

Marquis  de •  ("  out  of  consideration  for 

the  nobleman's  feelings,"  the  name  was  with 
held)  was  told  :  how,  the  son  of  a  peer  of 
France,  he  had  married,  while  yet  a  minor, 
against  the  wishes  of  his  stern  father  ;  how 
his  young  wife  and  infant  daughter  had  been 
spirited  away  by  the  stern  father's  orders ; 
how  on  his  death-bed  the  father  had  con« 


58  COLOR  STUDIES. 

fessed  his  evil  deed  to  his  son,  and  had  told 
that  mother  and  child  had  been  banished  to 
America,  where  the  mother  speedily  had 
died  of  grief,  and  where  the  child,  though  in 
ignorance  of  her  noble  origin,  had  been 
adopted  by  an  enormously  rich  American, 
about  whom  nothing  more  was  known  than 
the  fact  that  he  lived  in  New  York.  The 
Marquis,  the  article  stated,  now  was  engaged 
in  searching  for  his  long-lost  daughter,  and 
among  other  means  to  the  desired  end  had 
hit  upon  this — of  walking  New  York's  chief 
thoroughfare  in  the  faith  that  should  he  see 
his  child  his  paternal  instinct  would  reveal 
to  him  her  identity. 

"I  calculate  that  this  will  rather  whoop 
up  public  interest  in  our  performance,"  said 
the  tailor,  cheerfully,  the  next  day,  as  he 
handed  the  newspaper  containing  the  pleas 
ing  fiction  to  Jaune.  "  That's  my  idea,  for 
a  starter.  I've  got  the  whole  story  ready  to 
come  out  in  sections — paid  a  literary  feller 
twenty  dollars  to  get  it  up  for  me.  And 
you  be  careful  to-day  when  you  are  inter- 


JAUNE  D'ANTIMOINE.  $9 

viewed"  (Jaune  shuddered)  "to  keep  the 
story  up — or  "  (for  Jaune  was  beginning  a 
remonstrance)  "  you  can  keep  out  of  it  alto 
gether,  if  you'd  rather.  Say  you  must  re 
fuse  to  talk  upon  so  delicate  a  subject,  or 
something  of  that  sort.  Yes,  that's  your 
card.  It'll  make  the  mystery  greater,  you 
know — and  I'll  see  that  the  public  gets  the 
facts,  all  the  same." 

The  tailor  chuckled,  and  Jaune  was  unut 
terably  wretched.  He  was  on  the  point  of 
throwing  up  his  contract.  He  opened  his 
mouth  to  speak  the  decisive  words — and 
shut  it  again  as  the  thought  came  into  his 
mind  that  his  misery  must  be  borne,  and 
borne  gallantly,  because  it  was  all  for  the 
love  of  Rose. 

That  day  there  was  no  affectation  in  his 
air  of  melancholy.  He  was  profoundly  mis 
erable.  Faithful  to  his  contract,  he  looked 
searchingly  upon  the  many  young  women 
of  twenty  years  whom  he  met ;  and  such  of 
them  as  were  possessors  of  tender  hearts 
grew  very  sorrowful  at  sight  of  the  obvious 


t)O  COLOR   STUDIES. 

woe  by  which  he  was  oppressed.  His  woe, 
indeed,  was  keen,  for  the  newspaper  article 
had  had  Its  destined  effect,  and  he  was  a 
marked  man.  People  turned  to  look  at  him 
as  people  had  not  turned  before ;  it  was 
evident  that  he  was  a  subject  of  conversa 
tion.  Several  times  he  caught  broken  sen 
tences  which  he  recognized  as  portions  of 
his  supposititious  biography.  His  crowning 
torture  was  the  assault  of  the  newspaper  re 
porters.  They  were  suave,  they  were  surly, 
they  were  insinuatingly  sympathetic,  they 
were  aggressively  peremptory — but  all  alike 
were  determined  to  wring  from  him  to  the 
uttermost  the  details  of  the  sorrow  that  he 
never  had  suffered,  of  the  life  that  he  never 
had  lived.  It  was  a  confusing  sort  of  an  ex 
perience.  He  began  to  wonder,  at  last, 
whether  or  not  it  were  possible  that  he  could 
be  somebody  else  without  knowing  it ;  and 
if  it  were,  in  whom,  precisely,  his  identity 
was  vested.  Being  but  a  simple-minded 
young  fellow,  with  no  taste  whatever  for  met 
aphysics,  this  line  of  thought  was  upsetting. 


JAUNE  D'ANTIMOINE.  6 1 

While  involved  in  these  perplexing  doubts 
and  the  crowd  at  the  Fifth  Avenue  crossing, 
he  was  so  careless  as  to  step  upon  the  heel 
of  a  lady  in  front  of  him.  And  when  the 
lady  turned,  half  angrily,  half  to  receive  his 
profuse  apologies,  he  beheld  Mademoiselle 
Carthame.  The  face  of  this  young  person 
wore  an  expression  made  up  of  not  less 
than  three  conflicting  emotions  :  of  resent 
ment  of  the  assault  upon  the  heel  of  her  one 
pair  of  good  shoes,  of  friendly  recognition  of 
the  familiar  voice,  of  blank  surprise  upon 
perceiving  that  this  voice  came  from  the  lips 
of  a  total  stranger.  She  looked  searchingly 
upon  the  smoked  glasses,  obviously  trying 
to  pry  into  the  secret  of  the  hidden  eyes. 
Jaune's  blood  rushed  up  into  his  face,  and 
he  realized  that  detection  was  imminent. 
Mercifully,  at  that  moment  the  crowd 
opened,  and  with  a  bow  that  hid  his  face 
behind  his  hat  he  made  good  his  retreat. 
During  the  remaining  half  hour  of  his  walk, 
he  thought  no  more  of  metaphysics.  The 
horrid  danger  of  physical  discovery  from 


62  COLOR  STUDIES. 

which  he  had  escaped  so  narrowly  filled  him 
with  a  shuddering  alarm.  Nor  could  he 
banish  from  his  mind  the  harrowing  thought 
that  perhaps,  for  all  his  gray  hair  and  painted 
wrinkles  and  fine  clothes,  Rose  in  truth  had 
recognized  him. 

That  night  an  irresistible  attraction  drew 
him  to  the  Carthame  abode.  In  the  little 
parlor  he  found  the  severe  Madame  Car 
thame,  her  adorable  daughter,  and  the  offen 
sive  Count  Siccatif  de  Courtray.  Greatly  to 
his  relief,  his  reception  was  in  the  usual 
form  :  Madame  Carthame  conducted  herself 
after  the  fashion  of  a  well-bred  iceberg  ; 
Rose  endeavored  to  mitigate  the  severity  of 
her  parent's  demeanor  by  her  own  affability  ; 
the  Count,  as  much  as  possible,  ignored  his 
presence.  Jaune  could  not  repress  a  sigh  of 
relief.  She  had  not  recognized  him. 

But  his  evening  was  one  of  trial.  With 
much  vivacity,  Rose  entertained  the  little 
company  with  an  account  of  her  romantic 
adventure  with  the  French  nobleman  who 
had  come  to  America  in  quest  of  his  lost 


JAUNE  D'ANTIMOINE.  63 

daughter ;  for  she  had  read  the  newspaper 
story,  and  had  identified  its  hero  with  the 
assailant  of  her  heel.  She  dwelt  with  en 
thusiasm  upon  the  distinguished  appearance 
of  the  unhappy  foreigner ;  she  ventured  the 
suggestion,  promptly  and  sternly  checked 
by  her  mamma,  that  she  herself  might  be 
the  lost  child  ;  she  grew  plaintive,  and  ex 
pressed  a  burning  desire  to  comfort  this 
stricken  parent  with  a  daughter's  love  ;  and, 
worst  of  all,  she  sat  silent,  with  a  far-away 
look  in  her  charming  eyes,  and  obviously 
suffered  her  thoughts  to  go  astray  after  this 
handsome  Marquis  in  a  fashion  that  made 
even  the  Count  Siccatif  de  Courtray  fidget, 
and  that  filled  the  soul  of  Jaune  d'Antimoine 
with  a  consuming  jealousy — not  the  less 
consuming  because  of  the  absurd  fact  that  it 
was  jealousy  of  himself!  As  he  walked 
home  that  night  through  the  devious  ways 
of  Greenwich  to  his  dismal  studio,  he  seri 
ously  entertained  the  wish  that  he  never  had 
been  born. 

The  next  day  all  the  morning  papers  con- 


64  COLOR  STUDIES. 

tained  elaborate  "  interviews  "  with  the  Mar 
quis  :  for  each  of  the  several  reporters  who 
had  been  put  on  the  case,  believing  that  he 
alone  had  failed  to  get  the  facts,  and  being 
upheld  by  a  lofty  determination  that  no 
other  reporter  should  "  get  a  beat  on  him," 
had  evolved  from  his  own  inner  conscious 
ness  the  story  that  Jaune,  for  the  best  of 
reasons,  had  refused  to  tell.  The  stories 
thus  told,  being  based  upon  the  original 
fiction,  bore  a  family  resemblance  to  each 
other ;  and  as  all  of  them  were  interesting, 
they  stimulated  popular  curiosity  in  regard 
to  their  hero  to  a  very  high  pitch.  As  the 
result  of  them,  Jaune  found  himself  the  most 
conspicuous  man  in  New  York.  During  the 
three  hours  of  his  walk  he  was  the  centre  of 
an  interested  crowd.  Several  benevolent 
persons  stopped  him  to  tell  him  of  fatherless 
young  women  with  whom  they  were  ac 
quainted,  and  to  urge  upon  him  the  proba 
bility  that  each  of  these  young  women  was 
his  long-lost  child.  The  representatives  of  a 
dozen  detective  bureaus  introduced  them- 


JAUNE  D^ANTIMOINE.  65 

selves  to  him,  and  made  offer  of  their  pro 
fessional  services ;  a  messenger  from  the 
chief  of  police  handed  him  a  polite  note  ten 
dering  the  services  of  the  department  and 
inviting  him  to  a  conference.  It  was  mad 
dening. 

But  worst  of  all  were  his  meetings  with 
Rose.  As  these  multiplied,  the  conviction 
became  irresistible  that  they  were  not  the 
result  of  chance  ;  indeed,  her  manner  made 
doubt  upon  this  head  impossible.  At  first 
she  gave  him  only  a  passing  glance,  then  a 
glance  somewhat  longer,  then  a  look  of 
kindly  interest,  then  a  long  look  of  sympa 
thy  ;  and  at  last  she  bestowed  upon  him  a 
gentle,  almost  affectionate,  smile  that  ex 
pressed,  as  plainly  as  a  smile  could  express, 
her  sorrow  for  his  misery  and  her  readiness 
to  comfort  him.  In  a  word,  Rose  Car- 
thame's  conduct  simply  was  outrageous ! 

The  jealous   anger   which   had    inflamed 

Jaune's  breast  the  night  before  swelled  and 

expanded  into  a  raging  passion.     He  longed 

to  engage   in  mortal   combat  this  stranger 

5 


66  COLOR  STUDIES. 

who  was  alienating  the  affection  that  should 
be  his.  The  element  of  absurdity  in  the  sit 
uation  no  longer  was  apparent  to  him.  In 
truth,  as  he  reasoned,  the  situation  was  not 
absurd.  To  all  intents  and  purposes  he  was 
two  people  :  and  it  was  the  other  one  of  him, 
not  himself  at  all,  who  was  winning  Rose's 
interest,  perhaps  her  love.  For  a  moment 
the  thought  crossed  his  mind  that  he  would 
adjust  the  difficulty  in  his  own  favor  by  re 
maining  this  other  person  always.  But  the 
hard  truth  confronted  him  that  every  time 
he  washed  his  face  he  would  cease  to  be  the 
elderly  Marquis,  with  the  harder  truth  that 
the  fabulous  wealth  with  which,  as  the  Mar 
quis,  the  newspapers  had  endowed  him  was 
too  entirely  fabulous  to  serve  as  a  basis  for 
substantial  life.  And  being  thus  cut  off 
from  hope,  he  fell  back  upon  jealous  hatred 
of  himself. 

That  night  the  evening  paper  in  which 
the  first  mention  of  the  mysterious  French 
nobleman  had  been  made,  contained  an  ar 
ticle  cleverly  contrived  to  give  point  to  the 


JAUNE  D^ANTIMOINE.  6/ 

mystery  in  its  commercial  aspect.  The  fact 
had  been  observed,  the  article  declared,  that 
the  nobleman's  promenade  began  and  ended 
at  a  prominent  clothing  establishment  on 
Broadway ;  and  then  followed,  in  the  guise 
of  a  contribution  toward  the  clearing  up  of 
the  mystery,  an  interview  with  the  proprietor 
of  the  establishment  in  question.  However, 
the  interview  left  the  mystery  just  where  it 
found  it,  for  all  that  the  tailor  told  was  that 
the  Marquis  had  bought  several  suits  of 
clothes  from  him  ;  that  he  had  shown  him 
self  to  be  an  exceptionally  critical  person  in 
the  matter  of  his  wearing  apparel  ;  that  he 
had  expressed  repeatedly  his  entire  satisfac 
tion  with  his  purchases.  In  another  portion 
of  the  paper  was  a  glaring  advertisement,  in 
which  the  clothing  man  set  forth,  in  an  ani 
mated  fashion,  the  cheapness  and  desirability 
of"  The  Marquis  Suit  " — a  suit  that  "  might 
be  seen  to  advantage  on  the  person  of  the 
afflicted  French  nobleman  now  in  our  midst, 
who  had  honored  it  with  his  approval,  and 
in  whose  honor  it  had  been  named."  Upon 


68  COLOR  STUDIES. 

reading  the  newspaper  narrative  and  its  ad 
vertisement  pendent,  Jaune  groaned  aloud. 
He  was  oppressed  by  a  horror  of  discovery, 
and  here,  as  it  seemed  to  him  in  his  mor 
bidly  nervous  condition,  was  a  clew  to  his 
duplex  identity  sufficiently  obvious  to  be  ap 
parent  even  to  a  detective. 

THE  Count  Siccatif  de  Courtray,  as  has 
been  intimated,  went  so  far  as  to  fidget  while 
listening  to  Mademoiselle  Carthame's  viva 
cious  description  of  her  encounter  with  the 
handsome  Marquis.  Being  regaled  during 
the  ensuing  evening  with  a  very  similar  nar 
rative — a  materially  modified  version  of  the 
events  which  had  aroused  in  so  lively  a  man 
ner  the  passion  of  jealousy  in  the  breast  of 
Jaune  d'Antimoine — the  Count  ceased  merely 
to  fidget,  and  became  the  prey  to  a  serious 
anxiety.  He  determined  that  the  next  day, 
quite  unobtrusively,  he  would  observe  Made 
moiselle  Carthame  in  her  relations  with  this 
unknown  but  dangerously  fascinating  noble 
man  ;  and  also  that  he  would  give  some 


JAUNE  D'ANTIMOINE.  69 

attention  to  the  nobleman  himself.  This 
secondary  purpose  was  strengthened  the 
next  morning,  while  the  Count  was  engaged 
with  his  coffee  and  newspaper,  by  his  finding 
in  the  "  Courrier  des  £tats-Unis  "  a  transla 
tion  of  the  paragraph  stating  the  curious 
fact  that  the  daily  walk  of  the  Marquis  be 
gan  and  ended  at  the  Broadway  tailor-shop. 
Having  finished  his  breakfast,  the  Count 
leisurely  betook  himself  to  Broadway.  As 
he  slowly  strolled  eastward,  he  observed  on 
the  other  side  of  the  street  Jaune  d'Anti- 
moine,  in  his  desperately  shabby  raiment, 
hurriedly  walking  eastward  also.  The  Count 
murmured  a  brief  panegyric  upon  M.  d'Anti- 
moine,  in  which  the  words  "  cet  animal" 
alone  were  distinguishable.  They  were  near 
Broadway  at  this  moment,  and  to  the  Count's 
surprise  M.  d'Antimoine  entered  the  cloth 
ing  establishment  from  which  the  Marquis 
departed  upon  his  daily  walk.  Could  it  be 
possible,  he  thought,  that  fortune  had  smiled 
upon  the  young  artist,  and  that  he  was  about 
to  purchase  a  new  suit  of  clothes  ?  The 


7O  COLOR   STUDIES. 

Count  entertained  the  charitable  hope  that 
such  could  not  be  the  case. 

It  was  the  Count's  purpose,  in  order  that 
he  might  follow  also  the  movements  of  Made 
moiselle  Carthame,  to  follow  the  Marquis 
from  the  beginning  to  the  end  of  his  prome 
nade.  He  set  himself,  therefore,  to  watch 
ing  closely  for  the  appearance  of  the  grief- 
stricken  foreigner,  moving  carelessly  the 
while  from  one  shop-window  to  another  that 
commanded  a  view  of  the  field.  At  the  end 
of  half  an  hour,  when  the  Count  was  begin 
ning  to  think  that  the  object  of  his  solicitude 
was  a  myth,  out  from  the  broad  portal  of 
the  clothing  establishment  came  the  Mar 
quis  in  all  his  glory — more  glorious,  in  truth, 
than  Solomon,  and  more  melancholy  than 
the  melancholy  Jaques.  And  yet  for  an  in 
stant  the  Count  Siccatif  de  Courtray  was 
possessed  by  the  absurd  fancy  that  this 
stately  personage  was  Jaune  d'Antimoine  ! 
Truly,  here  was  the  same  tall,  handsome 
figure,  the  same  easy,  elegant  carriage,  the 
same  cut  of  hair  and  beard.  But  the  resem- 


JAUNE  D^ANTIMOINE.  7 1 

blance  went  no  further,  for  beard  and  hair 
were  gray  almost  to  whiteness,  the  face  was 
pale  and  old,  and  the  clothes,  so  far  from 
being  desperately  seedy,  were  more  resplen 
dent  even  than  the  Count's  own.  No,  the 
thought  was  incredible,  preposterous,  and 
yet  the  Count  could  not  discharge  it  from  his 
mind.  He  stamped  his  foot  savagely;  this 
mystery  was  becoming  more  interesting  than 
pleasing. 

In  the  crowd  that  the  Marquis  drew  in 
his  wake,  as  he  slowly,  sadly  sauntered  up 
Broadway,  the  Count  had  no  difficulty  in 
following  him  unobserved.  The  situation 
was  that  of  the  previous  day,  only  it  was  in 
tensified,  and  therefore,  to  its  hero,  the  more 
horrible.  The  benevolent  people  with  stray 
fatherless  young  women  to  dispose  of  were 
out  in  greater  force  ;  the  detectives  were 
more  aggressive  ;  the  newspaper  people 
were  more  persistent  ;  the  general  public 
was  more  keenly  interested  in  the  whole 
performance.  And  Rose — most  dreadful  of 
all— was  more  outrageous  than  ever !  The 


72  COLOR   STUDIES. 

Count  grew  almost  green  with  rage  during 
the  three  hours  that  he  was  a  witness  of  this 
young  woman's  scandalous  conduct.  A 
dozen  times  she  met  the  Marquis  in  the 
course  of  his  walk,  and  each  time  that  she 
met  him  she  greeted  him  with  a  yet  more 
tender  smile.  A  curious  fact  that  at  first 
surprised,  then  puzzled,  then  comforted  the 
Count  was  the  very  obvious  annoyance 
which  these  flattering  attentions  caused 
their  recipient.  Evidently,  he  persistently 
endeavored  to  evade  the  meetings  which 
Rose  as  persistently  and  more  successfully 
endeavored  to  force  upon  him.  Within  the 
scope  of  M.  de  Courtray's  comprehension 
only  one  reason  seemed  to  be  sufficient  to 
explain  the  determination  on  the  part  of  the 
Marquis  to  resist  the  advances  of  a  singu 
larly  attractive  young  woman,  whose  good 
disposition  toward  him  was  so  conspicuously, 
though  so  irregularly,  manifested  :  a  fear  of 
recognition.  And  this  reason  adjusted  itself 
in  a  striking  manner  to  the  queer  notion 
that  had  come  into  his  mind  that  the  Mar- 


JAUNE  D*ANT1MOINE.  73 

quis  was  an  ideal  creation,  whose  reality  was 
Jaune  d'Antimoine.  The  thought  was  ab 
surd,  irrational,  but  it  grew  stronger  and 
stronger  within  him — and  became  an  assured 
conviction  when,  shortly  after  the  prome 
nade  of  the  Marquis  had  ended,  Jaune  came 
forth  from  the  clothing-store  in  his  normal 
condition  of  shabbiness  and  youth.  The 
Count  was  not  in  all  respects  a  praiseworthy 
person,  but  among  his  vices  was  not  that  of 
stupidity.  Without  any  very  tremendous 
mental  effort  he  grasped  the  fact  that  his 
rival  had  sold  himself  into  bondage  as  a 
walking  advertisement,  and,  knowing  this,  a 
righteous  exultation  filled  his  soul.  Jaune's 
destiny,  so  far  as  Mademoiselle  Carthame 
was  concerned,  he  felt  was  in  his  power  : 
and  he  was  perplexed  by  no  nice  doubts  as 
to  the  purpose  to  which  the  power  that  he 
had  gained  should  be  applied. 

Untroubled  by  the  knowledge  that  his 
secret  was  discovered,  Jaune  entered  upon 
the  last  day  of  his  martyrdom.  It  was  the 
most  agonizing  day  of  all.  The  benevolent 


74  COLOR   STUDIES. 

persons,  the  reporters,  the  detectives,  the 
crowd  surging  about  him,  drove  him  almost 
to  madness.  He  walked  as  one  dazed.  And 
above  and  over  all  he  was  possessed  by  a 
frenzy  of  jealousy  that  came  of  the  offen 
sively  friendly  smiles  which  Rose  bestowed 
upon  him  as  she  forced  meetings  upon  him 
again  and  again.  It  was  with  difficulty  that 
he  restrained  himself  from  laying  violent 
hands  upon  this  bogus  Marquis  who  falsely 
and  infamously  had  beguiled  away  from  him 
the  love  for  which  he  gladly  would  have 
given  his  life.  Only  the  blood  of  his  despic 
able  rival,  he  felt,  would  satisfy  him.  He 
longed  to  find  himself  with  a  sword  in  his 
hand  on  a  bit  of  smooth  turf,  and  the  villain 
ous  Marquis  over  against  him,  ready  to  be 
run  through.  The  thought  was  so  delight 
ful,  so  animating,  that  involuntarily  he  made 
a  lunge — and  had  to  apologize  confusedly  to 
the  elderly  gentleman  whom  he  had  poked  in 
the  back  with  his  umbrella. 

At  last  the  three  hours  of  torture,  the  last 
of  his  two  weeks  of  hateful  servitude,  came 


JAUNE  D'ANTIMOINE.  ?$ 

to  an  end.  Pale  beneath  his  false  paleness, 
haggard  beyond  his  false  haggardness  of 
age,  he  entered  the  clothing-store  and  once 
more  was  himself.  With  a  gladness  un 
speakable  he  washed  off  his  wrinkles  and 
washed  out  the  gray  from  his  hair  and  beard ; 
with  a  sense  of  infinite  satisfaction  that,  a 
fortnight  earlier,  he  would  not  have  believed 
possible,  he  resumed  his  shabby  old  clothes. 
Had  he  chosen  to  do  so,  he  might  have 
walked  away  in  the  new  and  magnificent 
apparel  which  he  now  fairly  had  earned  ; 
but  just  at  present  his  loathing  for  these  fine 
garments  was  beyond  all  words. 

The  tailor  fain  would  have  had  the  mas 
querade  continue  longer,  for,  as  he  frankly 
stated,  "  The  Marquis  Suit "  was  having  a  tre 
mendous  sale.  But  Jaune  was  deaf  not  only 
to  the  tailor's  blandishments,  but  to  his  offers 
of  substantial  cash.  "Not  for  the  millions 
would  I  be  in  this  part  of  the  Marquis  for  one 
day  yet  more,"  he  said  firmly.  And  he  ad 
ded,  "  I  trust  to  you  in  honor,  sare,  that  not 
never  shall  my  name  be  spoken  in  this  affair." 


76  COLOR  STUDIES. 

"Couldn't  speak  it  if  I  wanted  to,  my 
dear  boy.  It's  a  mystery  to  me  how  you're 
able  to  say  it  yourself !  Well,  I'd  like  you 
to  run  the  '  Marquis '  for  another  week ;  but 
if  you  won't,  you  won't,  I  suppose,  so  there's 
an  end  of  it.  I'm  sorry  you  haven't  enjoyed 
it.  I  have.  It's  been  as  good  a  thing  as  I 
ever  got  hold  of.  Now  give  me  your  ad 
dress  and  I'll  have  your  clothes  sent  to 
you.  Don't  you  want  some  more  ?  I  don't 
mind  letting  you  have  a  regular  outfit  if 
you  want  it.  One  good  turn,  you  know — 
and  you've  done  me  a  good  turn,  and  that's 
a  fact." 

But  Jaune  declined  this  liberal  offer,  and 
declined  also  to  leave  his  address,  which 
would  have  involved  a  revelation  of  his  name. 
It  was  a  comfort  to  him  to  know  that  his 
name  was  safe — a  great  comfort.  So  the 
garments  of  the  forever-departed  Marquis 
were  but  up  in  a  big  bundle,  and  Jaune  jour 
neyed  homeward  to  his  studio  in  Greenwich 
— bearing  his  sheaves  with  him  —  in  a 
Bleecker  Street  car. 


JAUNE  D'ANTIMOINE.  // 

"  WELL,  you  are  a  cheeky  beggar,  d'Anti- 
moine,"  said  Vandyke  Brown,  cheerfully,  the 
next  morning,  as  he  came  into  Jaune's  studio 
with  a  newspaper  in  his  hand.  "So  you 
are  the  Marquis  who  has  been  setting  the 
town  wild  for  the  last  week,  eh  ?  And  who 
did  you  bet  with  ?  And  what  started  you 
in  such  a  crazy  performance,  anyway  ?  Tell 
me  all  about  it.  It's  as  funny — Good 
heavens !  d' Antimoine,  what's  the  matter  ? 
Are  you  ill  ? "  For  Jaune  had  grown 
deathly  pale  and  was  gasping. 

"  I  do  not  know  of  what  it  is  that  you 
talk,"  he  answered,  with  a  great  effort. 

"  Oh,  come  now,  that's  too  thin,  you  know. 
Why,  here's  a  whole  column  about  it,  telling 
how  you  made  a  bet  with  somebody  that  you 
could  set  all  the  town  to  talking  about  you, 
and  yet  do  it  all  in  such  a  clever  disguise 
that  nobody  would  know  who  you  really 
were,  not  even  your  most  intimate  friends. 
And  I  should  say  that  you  had  won  hand 
somely.  Why,  I've  seen  you  on  Broadway 
a  dozen  times  myself  this  last  week,  and  I 


78  COLOR  STUDIES. 

never  had  the  remotest  suspicion  that  the 
Marquis  was  you.  I  must  say,  though," 
continued  Brown,  reflectively,  and  looking 
closely  at  Jaune,  "  that  it  was  stupid  of  me. 
I  did  think  that  you  had  a  familiar  sort  of 
look ;  and  once,  I  remember,  it  did  occur  to 
me  that  you  looked  astonishingly  like  your 
self.  It — it  was  the  clothes,  you  see,  that 
threw  me  out.  Where  ever  did  you  get 
such  a  stunning  rig  ?  I  don't  believe  that 
I'd  have  known  you  dressed  like  that,  even 
if  you  hadn't  been  gray  and  wrinkled.  But 
tell  me  all  about  it,  old  man.  It  must  have 
been  jolly  fun  !  " 

"  Fun !  "  groaned  Jaune  ;  "  it  was  the  de 
spair  !  "  And  then,  his  heart  being  very  full 
and  his  longing  for  sympathy  overpowering, 
Jaune  told  Brown  the  whole  story.  "  But 
what  is  this  of  one  bet,  my  dear  Van,"  he 
concluded,  "  I  do  not  of  the  least  know." 

"  Well,  here  it  all  is  in  the  paper,  anyway. 
Calls  you  '  a  distinguished  animal-painter,' 
and  alludes  to  your  '  strikingly  vigorous 
"  Lioness  and  Cubs  "  and  powerful  "  Dray 


JAUNE  D'ANTIMOINE.  ?g 

Horses  "  at  the  last  spring  exhibition  of  the 
Society  of  American  Artists. '  Must  be  some 
body  who  knows  you,  you  see,  and  some 
body  who  means  well  by  you,  too.  There's 
nothing  at  all  about  your  being  an  advertise 
ment  ;  indeed,  there's  nothing  in  the  story 
but  a  good  joke,  of  which  you  are  the  hero. 
It's  an  eccentric  sort  of  heroism,  to  be  sure; 
but  then,  for  some  unknown  reason,  people 
never  seem  to  believe  that  artists  are  rational 
human  beings,  so  your  eccentricity  will  do 
you  no  harm.  And  it's  no  end  of  an  adver 
tisement  for  you.  Whoever  wrote  it  meant 
well  by  you.  And,  by  Jove  !  I  know  who 
it  is !  It's  little  Conte  Crayon.  He's  a 
good-hearted  little  beggar,  and  he  likes  you 
ever  so  much,  for  I've  heard  him  say  so ; 
but  how  he  ever  got  hold  of  the  story,  and 
especially  of  such  a  jolly  version  of  it,  I  don't 
see." 

At  this  moment,  by  a  pleasing  coincidence, 
Conte  Crayon  himself  appeared  with  the  de 
sired  explanation.  "  You  see,"  he  said, 
"  that  beast  of  a  Siccatif  de  Courtray  hunted 


80  COLOR  STUDIES. 

me  up  yesterday  and  told  me  the  yarn  about 
you  and  the  slop-shop  man.  He  wanted  me 
to  write  it  up  and  publish  it,  '  as  a  joke,'  he 
said ;  but  it  was  clear  enough  that  he  was  in 
ugly  earnest  about  it.  And  so,  you  see,  I 
had  to  rush  it  into  print  in  the  way  I  chose 
to  tell  it — which  won't  do  you  a  bit  of  harm, 
d'Antimoine — in  order  to  head  him  off.  The 
blackguard  meant  to  get  you  into  a  mess, 
and  if  I'd  hung  fire  he'd  have  told  somebody 
else  about  it,  and  had  the  real  story  pub 
lished.  Of  course,  you  know,  there's  noth 
ing  in  the  real  story  that  you  need  be 
ashamed  of ;  but  if  it  had  been  told,  you 
certainly  would  have  been  laughed  at,  and 
nasty  people  would  have  said  nasty  things 
about  it.  And  as  there  wasn't  any  time  to 
lose,  I  had  to  print  it  first  and  then  come 
here  and  explain  matters  afterward.  And 
what  I've  got  to  say  is  this  :  Just  you  cheek 
it  out  and  say  that  it  was  a  bet,  and  that 
you  won  it !  Brown  and  I  will  back  you  up 
in  it,  and  so  will  the  slop-shop  man.  I've 
been  to  see  him  this  morning,  and  he  is  so 


JAUNE  D'ANTIMOINE.  8 1 

pleased  with  the  way  that  '  The  Marquis 
Suit '  is  selling,  and  with  the  extra  free  ad 
vertisement  that  he  has  got  out  of  my  arti 
cle,  that  he's  promised  to  adopt  the  bet  ver 
sion  in  his  advertisement  in  all  the  papers. 
He  is  going  to  advertise  that  The  Marquis 
Suit  is  so  called  because  everybody  who 
wears  it  looks  like  a  marquis — just  as  you 
did.  This  cuts  the  ground  right  from  under 
the  Count's  feet,  you  see ;  for  nobody'd  be 
lieve  him  on  his  oath  if  they  could  help  it. 

"  And  now  I  must  clear  out.  I've  got  a 
race  at  Jerome  Park  at  two  o'clock.  It's  all 
right,  d'Antimoine  ;  I  assure  you  it's  all 
right — but  I  should  advise  you  to  punch  the 
Count's  head,  all  the  same." 

Vandyke  Brown  thought  that  it  was  all 
right,  too,  as  he  talked  the  matter  over  with 
Jaune  after  little  Conte  Crayon  had  gone. 
But  Jaune  refused  to  be  comforted.  So  far 
as  the  public  was  concerned  he  admitted  that 
Cont6  Crayon's  story  had  saved  him,  but 
he  was  oppressed  by  a  great  dread  of  what 
might  be  the  effect  of  the  truth  upon  Rose. 
6 


82  COLOR   STUDIES. 

For  Jaune  d'Antimoine  was  too  honest  a 
gentleman  even  to  think  of  deceiving  his 
mistress.  He  must  tell  her  the  whole  story, 
without  reserve,  and  as  she  approved  or  dis 
approved  of  what  he  had  done  must  his 
hopes  of  happiness  live  or  die. 

"Better  have  it  out  with  her  to-day,  and 
be  done  with  it,"  counselled  Brown. 

"  Ah!  it  is  well  for  you  to  speak  of  a 
'urry,  my  good  Van  ;  but  it  is  not  you  who 
go  to  execute  your  life.  No,  I  'ave  not  the 
force  to  go  to-day.  To-day  I  go  to  make  a 
long  walk.  Then  this  night  I  sleep  well. 
To-morrow,  in  the  morning,  do  I  go  to 
affront  my  destiny."  And  from  this  resolu 
tion  Jaune  was  not  to  be  moved. 

Yet  it  was  an  unfortunate  resolution,  for 
it  gave  the  Count  Siccatif  de  Courtray  time 
and  opportunity  for  a  flank  movement.  In 
the  Count's  breast  rage  and  astonishment 
contended  for  the  mastery  as  he  contem 
plated  the  curious  miscarriage  of  his  news 
paper  assault.  He  had  chosen  this  line  of 
attack  partly  because  his  modesty  counselled 


JAUNE  D-'ANTIMOINE.  83 

him  to  keep  his  own  personality  in  the  back 
ground,  partly  because  the  wider  the  pub 
licity  of  his  rival's  disgrace  the  more  com 
plete  would  that  disgrace  be.  But  as  his 
newspaper  ally  had  failed  him,  he  took  the 
campaign  into  his  own  hands  ;  that  is  to  say, 
he  hurried  to  tell  the  true  story,  and  a  good 
deal  more  than  the  true  story,  to  Rose  and 
Madame  Carthame. 

Concerning  its  effect  upon  Rose,  he  was  in 
doubt;  but  its  effect  upon  Madame  Car 
thame  was  all  that  he  could  desire.  This 
severe  person  instantly  took  the  cue  that  the 
Count  dexterously  gave  her  by  affecting  to 
palliate  Jaune's  erratic  conduct.  He  urged 
that,  inasmuch  as  M.  d'Antimoine  was  a 
conspicuous  failure  as  an  artist,  for  him  to 
engage  himself  to  a  tailor  as  a  walking  adver 
tisement,  so  far  from  being  a  disgrace  to  him, 
was  greatly  to  his  credit.  And  Madame 
Carthame  promptly  and  vehemently  asserted 
that  it  wasn't.  She  refused  to  regard  what 
he  had  done  in  any  other  light  than  that  of 
a  crime.  She  declared  that  never  again 


84  COLOR  STUDIES. 

should  his  offensive  form  darken  her  door. 
Solemnly  she  forbade  Rose  from  recogniz 
ing  him  when  in  the  future  they  should 
chance  to  meet.  And  then  she  abated  her 
severity  to  the  extent  of  thanking  the  Count 
with  tears  in  her  eyes  for  the  service  that  he 
had  done  her  in  tearing  off  this  viper's  dis 
guise.  Naturally,  the  Count  was  charmed 
by  Madame  Carthame's  energetic  indigna 
tion.  He  perceived  that  his  unselfish  inves 
tigations  of  the  actions  of  Monsieur  Jaune 
were  bearing  excellent  fruit.  Already,  as 
he  believed,  the  way  toward  his  own  happi 
ness  was  smooth  and  clear.  As  the  Count 
retired  from  this  successful  conference,  he 
laughed  softly  to  himself :  nor  did  he  pause 
in  his  unobtrusive  mirth  to  reflect  that  those 
laugh  best  who  laugh  last. 

And  thus  it  came  to  pass  that  when  Jaune, 
refreshed  by  sound  slumber  and  a  little 
cheered  by  hope,  presented  himself  the  next 
morning  at  Madame  Carthame's  gates,  fate 
decreed  that  Rose  herself  should  open  the 
gates  to  him — in  response  to  his  ring — and 


JAUNE  D^ANTIMOINE.  85 

in  her  own  proper  person  should  tell  him 
that  she  was  not  at  home.  In  explanation 
of  this  obviously  inexact  statement  she  an 
nounced  to  him  her  mother's  stern  decree. 
Being  but  a  giddy  young  person,  however, 
and  one  somewhat  lacking  in  fit  reverence  of 
maternal  authority,  she  added,  on  her  own 
account,  that  in  half  an  hour  or  so  she  was 
going  up  Fourth  Street  to  the  Gansevoort 
market,  and  that  Fourth  Street  was  a  public 
thoroughfare,  upon  which  M.  d'Antimoine 
also  had  a  perfect  right  to  walk. 

In  the  course  of  this  walk,  while  Jaune 
gallantly  carried  the  market-basket,  the  story 
that  Rose  already  had  heard  from  the  Count 
Siccatif  de  Courtray  was  told  again — but 
told  with  a  very  different  coloring.  For 
Mademoiselle  Carthame  clearly  perceived 
how  great  the  sacrifice  had  been  that  Jaune 
had  made  for  her  sake,  and  how  bravely, 
because  it  was  for  her  sake,  it  had  been 
made.  There  was  real  pathos  in  his  voice  ; 
once  or  twice  he  nearly  broke  down.  Possi 
bly  it  was  because  she  did  not  wish  him  to 


86  COLOR  STUDIES. 

see  her  eyes  that  she  manifested  so  marked 
an  interest  in  the  shop  windows  as  they 
walked  along. 

"And  so  that  adorable  Marquis  was 
unreal  ?  "  queried  Mademoiselle  Carthame 
sadly,  and  somewhat  irrelevantly,  when 
Jaune  had  told  her  all. 

"He  was  not  adorable.  He  was  a  dis 
gusting  beast !  "  replied  M.  d'Antimoine  sav 
agely. 

"  I — I  loved  him  !  "  answered  Rose,  turn 
ing  upon  Jaune,  at  last,  her  black  eyes. 
They  did  not  sparkle,  as  was  their  wont,  but 
they  were  wonderfully  lustrous  and  soft. 

Jaune  looked  down  into  the  market-basket 
and  groaned. 

"  And — and  I  love  him  still.  I  think,  I — 
I  hope,  that  he  will  live  always  in  my  heart." 

The  voice  of  Mademoiselle  Carthame  trem 
bled,  and  her  hand  grasped  very  tightly  the 
bag  of  carrots  that  they  had  been  unable  to 
make  a  place  for  in  the  basket  :  they  were 
coming  back  from  the  market  now. 

Jaune  did  not  look  up.     For  the  life  of 


JAUNE  D^ANTIMOINE.  8/ 

him  he  could  not  keep  back  a  sob.  It  was 
bitter  hard,  he  felt,  that  out  of  his  love  for 
Rose  should  come  love's  wreck  ;  and,  harder 
yet  that  the  rival  who  had .  stolen  her  from 
him  should  be  himself !  Through  the  mist 
of  his  misery  he  seemed  to  hear  Rose  laugh 
ing  softly.  Could  this  be  so  ?  Then,  in 
deed,  was  the  capstone  set  upon  his  grief ! 

"  Jaune!" 

He  started,  and  so  violently  that  a  cab 
bage,  with  half  a  dozen  potatoes  after  it, 
sprang  out  of  the  basket  and  rolled  along 
the  pavement  at  their  feet.  His  bowed  head 
rose  with  a  jerk,  and  their  eyes  met  full.  In 
hers  there  was  a  look  half  mocking,  that  as 
he  gazed  changed  into  tenderness  ;  into  his, 
as  he  saw  the  change  and  perceived  its  mean 
ing,  there  came  a  look  of  glad  delight. 

"  As  though  you  could  deceive  me!  Why, 
of  course,  I  knew  you  from  the  very  first !  " 

Then  they  collected  the  potatoes  and  the 
cabbage  and  walked  slowly  on,  and  great 
happiness  was  in  their  hearts. 

The  world  was  a  brighter  world  for  Jaune 


88  COLOR   STUDIES. 

d'Antimoine  when  he  gave  into  Rose's  hand 
the  market-basket  on  her  own  door-step,  and 
turned  reluctantly  away.  But  there  still 
were  clouds  in  it.  Rose  had  admitted  that 
two  things  were  necessary  before  getting 
married  could  be  thought  of  at  all  seriously  : 
something  must  be  done  by  which  the  nose 
of  the  Count  Siccatif  de  Courtray  would  be 
disjointed  ;  something  must  be  done  to  as 
sure  Madame  Carthame  that  M.  d'Anti 
moine,  in  some  fashion  at  least  a  little  re 
moved  from  semi-starvation,  could  main 
tain  a  wife.  It  was  certain  that  until  these 
things  were  accomplished  Madame  Car- 
thame's  lofty  resolution  to  transform  her 
daughter  into  a  countess,  and  her  stern  dis 
approbation  of  Jaune  as  a  social  outcast, 
never  would  be  overcome. 

As  events  turned  out,  it  was  the  second  of 
these  requirements  that  was  fulfilled  first. 

MR.  BADGER  BRUSH  was  a  very  rich  sport 
ing  man,  whose  tastes  were  horsey,  but  whose 
heart  was  in  the  right  place.  It  was  his  de- 


JAUNE  D'ANTIMOINE.  89 

light  to  make  or  to  back  extraordinary 
wagers.  Few  New  Yorkers  have  forgotten 
that  very  queer  bet  of  his  that  resulted  in 
putting  high  hats  on  all  the  Broadway  tele 
graph  poles.  When  Mr.  Brush  read  the 
story  of  Jaune  d'Antimoine's  wager,  there 
fore,  he  was  greatly  pleased  with  its  origi 
nality;  and  when,  later  in  the  day,  he  fell  in 
with  little  Conte  Crayon  at  Jerome  Park,  he 
pressed  that  ingenious  young  newspaper 
man  for  additional  particulars.  And  know 
ing  the  whereabouts  of  Mr.  Badger  Brush's 
heart,  Conte  Crayon  did  not  hesitate  to  tell 
the  whole  story — winding  up  with  the 
pointed  suggestion  that  inasmuch  as  the 
hero  of  the  story  was  an  animal-painter  of 
decided,  though  as  yet  unrecognized,  ability, 
Mr.  Brush  could  not  do  better  than  manifest 
his  interest  in  a  practical  way  by  giving  him 
an  order.  The  sporting  man  rose  to  the 
suggestion  with  a  commendable  promptness 
and  warmth. 

"  I  don't  care  a  blank  if  it  wasn't  a  bet," 
he  said,  heartily.     "That  young  man  has 


90  COLOR   STUDIES. 

pluck,  and  he  deserves  to  be  encouraged. 
I'll  go  down  and  see  him  to-morrow,  and  I'll 
order  a  portrait  of  Celeripes  ;  a  life-size, 
thousand-dollar  portrait,  by  Jove  !  Cele 
ripes  deserves  it,  after  the  pot  of  money  he 
brought  me  at  Long  Branch,  and  your  friend 
deserves  it  too.  And  I  have  some  other 
horses  that  I  want  painted,  and  some  dogs — 
he  paints  dogs,  I  suppose  ?  And  I  know  a 
lot  of  other  fellows  who  ought  to  have  their 
horses  painted,  and  I'll  start  them  along  at 
him.  I'll  give  him  all  the  painting  he  can 
handle  in  the  next  ten  years.  For  it  was  a 
bet,  you  see,  after  all.  Didn't  he  back  his 
cleverness  in  disguise  against  the  wits  of  the 
whole  town  ?  And  didn't  the  slop-shop  man 
put  up  the  stakes  ?  And  didn't  he  just  win 
in  a  canter  ?  I  should  rather  think  he  did  ! 
Of  course  it  was  a  bet,  and  a  mighty  good 
one  at  that.  Gad !  Crayon,  it's  the  best 
thing  that's  been  done  in  New  York  for 
years.  It's  what  I  call  first-class  cheek.  I 
couldn't  have  done  it  better,  sir,  myself!  " 
Thus  it  fell  out  that  half  an  hour  after 


JAUNE  D^ANTIMOINE.  91 

Jaune  got  back  to  his  studio  from  that  mem 
orable  walk  to  the  Gansevoort  market,  he 
had  the  breath-taking-away  felicity  of  book 
ing  a  thousand-dollar  order,  and  of  receiving 
such  obviously  trustworthy  assurances  of 
many  more  orders  that  his  wildest  hopes  of 
success  in  a  moment  were  resolved  into  sub 
stantial  realities.  When  he  was  alone  again 
he  certainly  would  have  believed  that  he  had 
been  dreaming  but  for  the  fact  that  Mr. 
Badger  Brush  had  insisted  upon  paying  half 
the  price  of  the  picture  down  in  advance  ; 
for  whatever  this  good-hearted,  horsey  gen 
tleman  did,  he  did  thoroughly  well.  The 
crisp  notes,  more  than  Jaune  ever  had  seen 
together  in  all  his  life  before — save  once, 
when  he  took  a  dealer's  cheque  for  ten  dol 
lars  to  a  bank  and  looked  through  the  wire 
screen  while  the  bank  man  haughtily  cashed 
it — lay  on  the  table  where  Mr.  Badger  Brush 
had  left  them  ;  and  their  blissful  presence 
proved  that  his  happiness  was  not  a  dream, 
but  real. 

From  the  corner   into  which,  loathingly, 


92  COLOR   STUDIES. 

he  had  kicked  it,  he  drew  forth  the  bundle 
containing  "The  Marquis  Suit."  With  a 
certain  solemnity  he  resumed  these  garments 
of  price  in  which  he  had  suffered  so  much 
torture,  and,  being  clad,  boldly  presented 
himself  to  Madame  Carthame  with  a  formal 
demand  for  her  daughter's  hand.  And  in 
view  of  the  sudden  and  prodigious  change 
that  had  come  over  M.  d'Antimoine's  fort 
unes,  almost  was  Madame  Carthame  per 
suaded  that  the  matrimonial  plans  which  she 
had  laid  out  for  her  daughter  might  be 
changed.  Yet  did  she  hesitate  before  an 
nouncing  that  their  Median  and  Persian 
quality  might  be  questioned  :  for  the  hope 
that  Rose  might  be  a  countess  lay  very  close 
to  Madame  Carthame's  heart.  However, 
her  determination  was  shaken,  which  was  a 
great  point  gained. 

And  presently — for  Jaune's  star  was 
triumphantly  in  the  ascendant — it  was  com 
pletely  destroyed.  The  instrument  of  its 
destruction  was  Mr.  Badger  Brush's  groom, 
Stumps. 


JAUNE  D'ANTIMOINE.  93 

Stumps  was  a  talkative  creature,  and 
whenever  he  came  down  to  Jaune's  studio, 
as  he  very  often  did  while  the  portrait  of 
Celeripes  was  in  progress,  he  had  a  good 
deal  to  say  over  and  above  the  message  that 
he  brought,  as  to  when  the  horse  would  be 
free  for  the  next  "  sitting  "  in  the  paddock 
at  Mr.  Brush's  country  place  where  Jaune 
was  painting  him.  And  Jaune,  who  was  one 
of  the  best-natured  of  mortals,  usually  suf 
fered  Stumps  to  talk  away  until  he  was  tired. 

"  You  might  knock  me  down  with  a  wisp 
of  hay,  you  might,  indeed,  sir,"  said  the 
groom  one  morning  a  fortnight  after  the 
picture  had  been  begun — the  day  but  one, 
in  fact,  before  that  set  for  Vandyke  Brown's 
wedding.  "Yes,  sir,"  he  continued,  "with 
a  wisp  of  hay,  or  even  with  a  single  straw  ! 
Here  I've  been  face  to  face  with  my  own 
father's  brother's  son,  and  I've  put  out  my 
hand  to  him,  and  he's  turned  away  short  and 
pretended  as  he  didn't  know  me  and  went 
off!  And  they  tells  me  at  his  lodgin',  for  I 
follered  him  a-purpose  to  find  him  out,  that 


94  COLOR   STUDIES. 

he  calls  hisself  a  Frenchman,  and  sa)'s  as  how 
his  name — which  it  is  Stumps,  and  always 
has  been — is  Count  Sikativ  de  Cortray  !  " 

Jaune's  palette  and  brushes  fell  to  the  floor 
with  a  crash.  "Is  it  posseeble  that  you  do 
tell  me  of  the  Comte  Siccatif  de  Courtray  ? 
Are  you  then  sure  that  you  do  not  make  one 
grand  meestake  ?  Is  it  'im  truly  that  you 
'ave  seen  ?  " 

"Him,  sir?  Wy,  in  course  it's  him. 
Haven't  I  knowed  him  ever  since  he  wasn't 
higher'n  a  hoss's  fetlock  ?  Don't  I  tell  you 
as  me  and  him's  fust  cousins  ?  Him  ?  In 
course  it's  him — the  gump  !  " 

"Then,  my  good  Stump,  you  will  now  tell 
me  of  this  wonder  all." 

"  It's  not  much  there  is  to  tell,  sir,  and 
wat  there  is  isn't  to  his  credit.  His  father 
was  my  father's  brother.  My  father  was  in 
the  hoss  line  out  Saint  John's  Wood  way — 
in  Lunnon,  you  know,  sir — and  his  father 
lived  in  our  street  and  was  a  swell  barber. 
Uncle'd  married  a  French  young  'ooman  as 
was  dressmakin'  and  had  been  a  lady's  maid  ; 


JAUNE  D'ANTIMOINE.  95 

it's  along  of  his  mother  that  he  gets  his 
Frenchness,  you  see.  He  was  an  only  son, 
he  was,  and  they  made  a  lot  of  him — dressin' 
him  fine,  and  coddlin'  him,  and  sendin'  him 
to  school  like  anythink.  Uncle  was  doin'  a 
big  trade,  you  see,  and  makin'  money  fast. 
Then,  when  he  was  a  young  fellow  of  twenty 
or  so,  and  after  he'd  served  at  barberin'  with 
his  father  for  a  couple  of  years,  he  took 
service  with  young  Lord  Cadmium — as  had 
his  '  cousin '  livin'  in  a  willa  down  our  way, 
and  came  to  uncle's  to  be  barbered  fre 
quent.  And  wen  Lord  Cadmium  went 
sudden-like  over  to  the  Continent,  wishin'  to 
give  his  '  cousin '  the  slip,  havin'  got  sick  of 
her,  Stumps  he  went  along.  That's  a  mat 
ter  of  ten  years  ago,  sir,  and  blessed  if  I've 
laid  eyes  on  him  since  until  I  seed  him  here 
in  New  York  to-day.  Uncle  died  better'n 
two  year  back,  aunt  havin'  died  fust,  and  he 
left  a  tidy  pot  of  money  to  Stumps  ;  and  I 
did  hear  that  Stumps,  who'd  been  barberin' 
in  Paris,  had  giv'  up  work  when  he  got  the 
cash  and  had  set  up  to  be  a  gentleman,  but 


96  COLOR  STUDIES. 

I  didn't  know  as  he'd  set  up  to  be  a  count 
too.     The  like  of  this  I  never  did  see  !  " 

"  And  you  are,  then,  sure,  you  will  swear, 
my   good   Stump,   that   this   are   the   samef 
man  ?  " 

"  Swear,  sir  !  I'll  swear  to  it  'igh  and  low 
and  all  day  long  !  But  I  must  be  goin',  sir. 
You  will  please  to  remember  that  the  hoss 
will  be  ready  for  you  at  ten  o'clock  to-morrow 
mornin',  sharp." 

Jaune  rushed  down  to  Vandyke  Brown's 
studio  for  counsel  as  to  whether  he  should  go 
at  once  to  the  Count's  lodgings  and  charge 
him  with  fraud  to  his  face,  or  should  make 
the  charge  first  to  Madame  Carthame.  But 
Brown  was  out.  Nor  was  he  in  old  Madder's 
studio,  though  about  this  time  he  was  much 
more  likely  to  be  there  than  in  his  own. 
Old  Madder  said  that  Brown  had  taken  Rose 
over  to  Brooklyn,  to  the  Philharmonic,  and 
he  believed  that  they  were  going  to  dinner 
at  Mr.  Mangan  Brown's  afterward,  and  would 
not  be  in  till  late  ;  and  he  seemed  to  be 
pretty  grumpy  about  it. 


JAUATE  D^ANTIMOINE.  9/ 

Jaune  fumed  and  fretted  away  what  was 
left  of  the  afternoon  and  a  good  part  of  the 
evening.  At  last  Brown  and  Rose  came 
home,  and  Brown,  with  a  very  bad  grace, 
suffered  himself  to  be  led  away  from  old 
Madder's  threshold.  To  do  him  justice, 
though,  when  he  had  heard  the  story  that 
Jaune  had  to  tell,  he  was  all  eagerness.  His 
advice  was  to  make  the  attack  instantly ; 
and  without  more  words  they  set  off  to 
gether,  walking  briskly  through  the  chill  air 
of  the  late  October  night. 

As  they  were  passing  along  Macdougal 
Street — midway  between  Bleecker  and  Hous 
ton,  in  front  of  the  row  of  pretty  houses  with 
verandas  all  over  their  fronts — Jaune  sud 
denly  gripped  Brown's  arm  and  drew  him 
quickly  within  one  of  the  little  front  yards 
and  into  the  shadow  of  the  high  iron  steps. 

"  Look  !  "  he  said. 

On  the  other  side  of  the  street,  in  the 

light   of    the   gas-lamp   that  stands   in   the 

centre  of  the  block,  was  the  Count  himself. 

For  the  moment  that  he  was  beneath  the 

7 


98  COLOR  STUDIES. 

gas-lamp  they  saw  him  clearly.  His  face 
was  set  in  an  expression  of  gloomy  sternness; 
his  rapid,  resolute  walk  indicated  a  definite 
purpose ;  he  carried  a  little  bundle  in  his 
hand. 

"  What  a  villain  he  looks  ! "  whispered 
Brown.  "  Upon  my  soul,  I  do  believe  that 
he  is  going  to  murder  somebody  !  " 

"  Ah  !  the  vile  animal !  We  will  pursue," 
answered  Jaune,  also  in  a  whisper. 

Giving  the  Count  a  start  of  a  dozen  house 
fronts,  they  stepped  out  from  their  retreat 
and  followed  him  cautiously.  He  walked 
quickly  up  Macdougal  Street  until  he  came 
out  on  Washington  Square.  For  a  moment 
he  paused — by  Sam  Wah's  laundry — and 
then  turned  sharply  to  the  left  along  Fourth 
Street.  At  a  good  pace  he  crossed  Sixth 
Avenue,  swung  around  the  curve  that  Fourth 
Street  makes  before  beginning  its  preposter 
ous  journey  northward,  went  on  past  the 
three  little  balconied  houses  whose  fronts  are 
on  Washington  Place,  and  so  came  out  upon 
the  open  space  where  Washington  Place  and 


JAUNE  D'ANTIMOINE.  99 

Barrow  Street  and  Fourth  Street  all  run 
into  each  other.  It  was  hereabouts  that 
Wouter  Van  Twiller  had  his  tobacco  farm  a 
trifle  less  than  two  centuries  ago. 

The  Count  stopped,  as  though  to  get  his 
bearings  ;  and  while  they  waited  for  him  to 
go  on,  Brown  nudged  Jaune  to  look  at  the 
delightfully  picturesque  frame  house,  set  in 
a  deep  niche  between  two  high  brick  houses, 
with  the  wooden  stair  elbowing  up  its  out 
side  to  its  third  story.  It  came  out  wonder 
fully  well  in  the  moonlight,  but  Jaune  was 
too  much  excited  even  to  glance  at  it. 

At  the  next  group  of  corners — where 
Fourth  Street  crosses  Grove  and  Christopher 
Streets  at  the  point  where  they  go  sidling 
into  each  other  along  the  slanting  lines  of 
the  little  park — the  Count  halted  again. 
Evidently,  the  exceeding  crookedness  of 
Greenwich  Village  puzzled  him — as  well  it 
might.  Presently  a  Christopher-Street  car 
came  along  and  set  him  straight ;  and  thus 
guided,  he  started  resolutely  westward,  as 
though  heading  for  the  river. 


100  COLOR  STUDIES. 

"Is  it  posseeble  that  he  goes  'imself  to 
drown  ?  "  suggested  d'Antimoine. 

"  No  such  good  luck,"  Brown  answered 
shortly. 

Coming  out  on  what  used  to  be  called 
"  the  Strand  " — West  Street  they  call  it  now 
— the  Count  bore  away  from  the  lights  of 
the  Hoboken  Ferry  and  from  the  guarded 
docks  of  the  White  Star  and  Anchor  lines  of 
steamers,  skirted  the  fleet  of  oyster  boats, 
and  so  came  to  the  quiet  pier  at  the  foot  of 
Perry  Street,  where  the  hay  barges  unload. 
This  pier  runs  a  long  way  out  into  the  river, 
for  it  is  a  part  of  what  was  called  Sapo- 
kamikke  Point  in  Indian  times.  The  Count 
stopped  and  looked  cautiously  around  him, 
but  his  pursuers  promptly  crouched  behind 
a  dray  and  became  invisible. 

As  he  went  out  upon  the  pier,  though, 
they  were  close  upon  his  heels — walking 
noiselessly  over  the  loose  hay  and  keeping 
themselves  hidden  in  the  shadow  of  the 
barges  and  behind  the  piles  of  bales.  At 
the  very  end  of  the  pier  he  stopped.  Jaune 


JAUNE  D'ANTIMOINE.  IOI 

and  Brown,  hidden  by  a  bale  of  hay,  were 
within  five  feet  of  him.  Their  hearts  were 
beating  tremendously.  There  had  been  no 
tragical  purpose  in  their  minds  when  they 
started,  but  it  certainly  did  look  now  as 
though  they  were  in  the  thick  of  a  tragedy. 
In  the  crisp  October  moonlight  the  Count's 
face  shone  deathly  pale  ;  they  could  see  the 
fingers  of  his  right  hand  working  convul 
sively  ;  they  could  hear  his  labored  breath 
ing.  Below  him  was  the  deep,  black  water, 
lapping  and  rippling  as  the  swirl  of  the  tide 
sucked  it  into  the  dark,  slimy  recesses  among 
the  piles.  In  its  bosom  was  horrible  death. 
The  Count  stepped  out  upon  the  very  edge 
of  the  pier  and  gazed  wofully  down  upon 
the  swelling  waters.  His  dismal  purpose  no 
longer  admitted  of  doubt.  Involuntarily  the 
two  followed  him  until  they  were  close  at  his 
back.  Little  as  they  loved  him,  they  could 
not  suffer  him  thus  despairingly  to  leave  the 
world. 

But   instead  of  casting  himself  over  the 
edge  of  the  pier,  the  Count  slowly  raised  the 


102  COLOR  STUDIES. 

hand  that  held  the  bundle,  with  the  obvious 
intention  of  throwing  the  bundle  and  what 
ever  was  the  evil  secret  that  it  contained 
into  the  river's  depths.  Quick  as  thought, 
Brown  had  seized  the  upraised  arm,  and 
Jaune  had  settled  upon  the  other  arm  with  a 
grip  like  a  vise. 

"  No  you  don't,  my  boy  !  Let's  see  what 
it  is  before  it  goes  overboard.  Hold  fast, 
d'Antimoine  !  " 

The  Count  struggled  furiously,  but  hope 
lessly. 

"  It's  no  use.  You  may  as  well  give  in, 
Stumps  !  " 

As  Brown  uttered  this  name  the  Count 
suddenly  became  limp.  The  little  bundle 
that  he  had  clutched  tightly  through  the 
struggle  dropped  from  his  nerveless  hand, 
and  fell  open  as  it  struck  the  ground.  And 
there,  gleaming  in  the  moonlight,  a  brace 
of  razors,  a  stubby  brush,  a  stout  pair  of 
shears,  lay  loosely  in  the  folds  of  a  barber's 
jacket ! 

And  this  was  the  sorry  climax  to  the  bril- 


JAUNE  D'ANTIMOINE.  1 03 

liant  romance  of  the  proscribed  Bonapartist, 
the  Count  Siccatif  de  Courtray  ! 

Jaune,  who  was  a  generous-hearted  young 
fellow,  was  for  setting  free  his  crest-fallen 
rival  at  once,  and  so  having  done  with  him. 
Brown  took  a  more  statesmanlike  view  of 
the  situation.  "  We  will  let  him  go  after  he 
has  owned  up  to  Madame  Carthame  what  a 
fraud  he  is,"  he  said.  The  Count  winced 
when  this  sentence  was  pronounced,  but  he 
uttered  no  remonstrance.  The  shock  of 
the  discovery  had  completely  demoralized 
him. 

It  was  after  midnight  when  they  reached 
Madame  Carthame's  dwelling,  and  Rose  her 
self,  with  her  hair  done  up  in  curl  papers, 
opened  the  door  for  them.  When  she  recog 
nized  the  three  visitors  and  perceived  that 
the  Count  was  in  custody,  and  at  the  same 
moment  remembered  her  curl  papers,  on 
her  face  the  gaze  of  astonishment  and  the 
blush  of  maidenly  modesty  contended  for  the 
right  of  way. 

Madame  Carthame  fairly  was  in  bed — as 


104  COLOR  STUDIES. 

was  evident  from  the  spirited  conversation 
between  herself  and  her  vivacious  daughter, 
that  was  perfectly  audible  through  the  fold 
ing  doors  which  separated  the  little  parlor 
from  her  bedroom.  It  was  evident,  also, 
that  she  was  indisposed  to  rise.  However, 
her  indisposition  was  overcome,  and  in  the 
course  of  twenty  minutes  or  so  she  appeared 
arrayed  in  a  frigid  dignity  and  a  loose  wrap 
per.  Rose,  meanwhile,  had  taken  off  her 
curl  papers,  and  Jaune  regarded  her  tumbled 
hair  with  ecstasy. 

The  tribunal  being  assembled,  the  prisoner 
was  placed  at  the  bar  and  the  trial  began. 
It  was  an  eminently  irregular  trial,  looking 
at  it  from  a  legal  point  of  view,  for  the  verbal 
evidence  all  was  hearsay.  But  it  also  was 
extra  legal  in  that  it  was  brief  and  decisive. 
Brown  gave  his  testimony  in  the  shape  of  a 
repetition  of  the  story  that  Jaune  had  told 
him  had  been  told  by  Mr.  Badger  Brush's 
groom  ;  and  when  this  was  concluded,  Jaune 
produced  the  jacket,  razors,  shears,  and 
shaving  brush,  and  stated  the  circumstances 


JAUNE  D^ANTIMOINE.  10$ 

under  which  they  had  been  found.  Then 
the  prosecution  rested. 

Being  questioned  by  the  court — that  is  to 
say,  by  Madame  Carthame — in  his  own  de 
fence,  the  Count  replied  gloomily  that  he 
hadn't  any.  "  When  I  saw  that  horse  fel 
low,"  he  said,  "I  knew  that  I  was  likely  to 
get  into  trouble,  and  that  was  the  reason 
why  I  wanted  to  get  rid  of  these  things. 
And  now  the  game  is  up.  It  is  all  true.  I 
was  a  barber.  I  am  not  a  count.  My  real 
name  is  Stumps." 

Then  it  was  that  Madame  Carthame,  bliss 
fully  ignorant  of  the  fact  that  she  had  neg 
lected  to  remove  her  night-cap,  stood  up  in 
her  place,  with  her  wrapper  gathered  about 
her  in  a  statuesque  fashion,  and  in  a  tragic 
tone  uttered  the  single  word  : 

"  Sortez  !  " 

And  the  Count  went ! 

Out,  out  into  the  chill  and  gloom  of  night 
went  the  false  Count,  never  to  return  ;  and 
with  him  went  Madame  Carthame's  fond 
hope  that  her  daughter  would  be  a  countess, 


IO(5  COLOR   STUDIES. 

which  also  was  the  last  barrier  in  the  way  of 
Jaune  d'Antimoine's  love.  Perceiving  that 
the  force  of  fate  inexorably  was  pressing 
upon  her,  Madame  Carthame — still  in  her 
night-cap — bestowed  upon  Rose  and  Jaune 
the  maternal  blessing  in  a  manner  that,  even 
allowing  for  the  night-cap,  was  both  stately 
and  severe. 

As  at  Vandyke  Brown's  wedding  Jaune 
d'Antimoine  was  radiantly  magnificent  in 
"  The  Marquis  Suit,"  adding  splendor  to  the 
ceremony  and  rendering  himself  most  pleas 
ing  in  the  eyes  of  Rose  Carthame ;  so,  a 
month  later,  he  was  yet  more  radiant  when 
he  wore  the  famous  suit  again,  in  the  church 
of  Saint  Vincent  de  Paul,  and  was  himself 
married. 

Cont£  Crayon  brought  Mr.  Badger  Brush 
down  to  the  wedding,  and  the  groom  came 
too,  and  the  tailor  got  wind  of  it  and  came 
without  being  asked — and  had  to  be  implored 
not  to  work  it  up  into  an  advertisement,  as 
he  very  much  wanted  to  do.  Mrs.  Vandyke 


JAUNE  D^ANTIMOINE.  IO/ 

Brown,  just  home  from  her  wedding  journey, 
was  the  first  —  after  the  kiss  of  Madame 
Carthame  had  been  sternly  bestowed — to  kiss 
the  bride  ;  and  Mr.  Badger  Brush  irrever 
ently  whispered  to  Cont6  Crayon  that  he 
wished,  by  gad  !  he  had  her  chance ! 


ORPIMENT   &  GAMBOGE. 

HPHE  firm  was  in  leather,  down  in  the 
1  Swamp,  and  Mr.  Orpiment  used  to  ride 
down-town  every  morning  from  his  house  in 
Bank  Street,  regular  as  the  almanac,  in  a 
Bleecker  Street  car.  His  house  was  one  of 
those  eminently  respectable,  high-stooped 
dwellings,  between  Fourth  Street  and  the 
old  Greenwich  Road — quite  the  court  end  of 
what  used  to  be  Greenwich  village  three 
score  years  or  so  ago,  and  about  as  pleasant 
an  abiding-place  as  you  will  find  to-day  in  all 
the  city  of  New  York.  This  house  was  un 
necessarily  large  for  Mr.  Orpiment's  family 
— for  the  whole  of  his  family  was  himself; 
but  as  he  seemed  to  be  entirely  satisfied  with 
it,  no  one  ventured  to  suggest  to  him  that  he 
had  better  move.  Indeed,  there  were  few 
people  in  the  world  who,  knowing  Mr.  Orpi- 


ORPIMENT  &>    GAMBOGE.  ICKJ 

ment,  would  have  willingly  ventured  to  sug 
gest  to  him  anything  whatever,  for  he  was 
not  a  person  who  took  suggestions  kindly. 
In  point  of  fact,  he  usually  took  them  with  a 
snap. 

When  young  Orpiment,  in  a  suggestive 
sort  of  way,  observed  modestly  from  under 
his  blonde  mustache  that  his  uncle  would  be 
doing  a  good  thing  if  he  would  rescind  the 
edict  under  which  he,  young  Orpiment,  was 
going  through  the  form  of  learning  the 
leather  business,  and  would  permit  him  to 
betake  himself  to  the  study  of  Art — when 
young  Orpiment  made  this  suggestion,  I  say, 
Mr.  Orpiment  fell  into  such  a  rage  that  his 
counting-house — large  though  it  was  and 
small  though  he  was— would  not  hold  him  ; 
in  his  wrath  he  strode  out  into  his  ware 
house,  among  the  kips  and  hides,  and  used 
language  in  their  presence  strong  enough  to 
tan  them.  The  upshot  of  the  matter  was, 
that  young  Orpiment  was  given  twenty-four 
hours  in  which  to  make  up  his  mind  whether 
he  would  stick  to  leather  and  his  bread  and 


110  COLOR   STUDIES. 

butter,  or  be  an  infernal  idiot  (such  was  Mr. 
Orpiment's  unparliamentary  language)  and 
starve  among  his  paint-pots.  And  young 
Orpiment,  his  crisp  blonde  hair  fairly  brist 
ling  with  determination,  every  muscle  in  his 
large,  well-built  body  tense  with  energy,  in 
something  less  than  twenty-four  seconds 
elected  for  starvation  and  the  pots  of  paint. 

But  for  all  his  high  temper  and  defiant 
way  of  dealing  with  things,  there  was  one 
thing  that  Mr.  Orpiment  could  not  deal  with 
defiantly.  One  morning — only  a  few  weeks 
after  this  battle  royal  of  the  paint-pots  had 
been  fought — to  the  astonishment  of  all  the 
people  in  Bank  Street,  his  front  door  did  not 
open  at  precisely  twenty-seven  minutes  after 
eight  o'clock ;  and  the  conductor  of  the 
Bleecker  Street  car  concluded  that  in  some 
mysterious  way  he  must  have  got  ahead  of 
his  schedule,  because  at  8.30  Mr.  Orpiment 
was  not  standing,  like  a  block-signal,  with 
his  neatly-folded  umbrella  thrust  out  straight 
before  him,  at  the  Bank  Street  crossing ; 
and  Mr.  Gamboge  got  into  a  nervous  fluster, 


ORPIMENT  &    GAMBOGE.  Ill 

and  said  that  he  knew  that  something  must 
be  wrong,  when  the  counting-house  clock 
struck  nine  and  Mr.  Orpiment  did  not  make 
his  appearance,  as  was  his  invariable  custom, 
between  the  sixth  stroke  and  the  seventh. 
And  something  was  wrong :  Mr.  Orpiment 
was  dead. 

As  all  through  his  life  Mr.  Orpiment  had 
been  setting  himself  to  go  off,  like  an  alarm 
clock,  at  definitely  determined  points  in  the 
future,  so  did  he  carry  this  habit  into  the 
testamentary  disposition  of  his  estate.  His 
will,  so  to  speak,  was  double-barrelled.  The 
first  barrel  went  off  immediately  upon  his 
decease,  and,  as  it  were,  set  the  alarm. 
After  devising  certain  small  legacies  to  a 
few  friends  and  dependants,  to  be  paid  out 
of  accruing  income,  and  a  round  ten  thousand 
dollars  in  Government  bonds  to  the  Protes 
tant  Home  for  Half-Orphans — an  institution 
in  which,  for  many  years,  Mr.  Orpiment  had 
taken  the  liveliest  interest,  probably  be 
cause  in  his  early  life  he  had  been  a  half- 
orphan  himself,  and  knew  how  very  disa- 


112  COLOR   STUDIES. 

greeable  it  was ;  after  these  rational  and 
commendable  bequests,  the  will  took  a  new 
departure,  and  the  rest  of  it  was  as  eccentric 
and  as  arbitrary  as  ever  Mr.  Orpiment  him 
self  had  been  :  and  that  is  saying  a  good  deal. 
It  declared  that  all  the  rest,  residue,  and 
remainder  of  Mr.  Orpiment's  estate,  real  and 
personal,  whatsoever  and  wheresoever,  was 
given,  devised,  and  bequeathed  unto  his  ex 
ecutors — Mr.  Gamboge  and  Mr.  Mangan 
Brown  were  the  executors — in  trust :  to  col 
lect  and  receive  the  income  thereof,  and  to 
pay  thereout  all  necessary  charges  and  ex 
penses,  and  to  invest  the  surplus  income  each 
year,  and  to  add  the  same  to  the  principal  of 
Mr.  Orpiment's  estate,  and  thus  to  reinvest 
and  accumulate  for  the  period  of  five  years 
after  Mr.  Orpiment's  decease ;  and  at  the 
expiration  of  the  said  period,  to  hold  the 
said  principal,  with  its  additions  and  accu 
mulations,  upon  the  further  trusts  set  out  in 
a  codicil  to  this  Mr.  Orpiment's  will,  which 
codicil  would  be  found  in  the  top  drawer  of 
the  small  fire-proof  safe  in  Mr.  Orpiment's 


ORPIMENT  &   GAM£OG£.  113 

library ;  and  (here  was  the  queerest  part  of 
all)  that  until  the  expiration  of  the  said  five 
years  this  codicil  was  not  to  be  opened  under 
any  circumstances  whatsoever.  The  will 
further  provided  that  until  the  five  years 
should  be  ended  Mr.  Gamboge  should  carry 
on  the  business  of  the  firm  under  the  firm 
name  ;  and,  in  an  extremely  peremptory 
clause,  he  was  forbidden  to  give  employ 
ment,  in  any  shape  or  way,  to  young  Orpi- 
ment.  The  leather  business  and  the  art 
business,  the  will  stated  dryly,  were  inharmo 
nious  ;  and  inasmuch  as  young  Orpiment 
had  chosen  the  latter,  the  testator  wished  to 
leave  him  entirely  free  to  carry  it  on  undis 
turbed  by  the  claims  of  the  former  upon  his 
thought  and  time. 

With  this  parting  shot  the  will  ended,  as  a 
sailor  would  say,  short — without  giving,  save 
as  such  was  to  be  found  in  the  tidy  legacy 
to  the  Protestant  half-orphans,  the  least  hint 
or  suggestion  as  to  what  was  to  become  of 
Mr.  Orpiment's  fortune  at  the  end  of  the 
five  years  ;  without  throwing  the  faintest 


114  COLOR  STUDIES. 

ray  of  light  upon  the  mystery  that  all  this 
waiting  and  trust-creating  involved.  It  was 
as  queer  a  will  as  ever  went  to  probate  ;  in 
deed,  had  there  been  anybody  besides  young 
Orpiment  to  contest  it,  the  probabilities  are 
that  it  would  not  have  been  admitted  to 
probate  at  all.  But  young  Orpiment  was  Mr. 
Orpiment's  sole  kinsman  ;  and,  as  matters 
stood  just  then,  his  pride  was  so  thoroughly 
up  that  had  he  been  called  upon  to  choose 
between  breaking  the  will  and  breaking  his 
own  neck,  he  would  have  chosen  the  latter 
alternative  with  all  possible  celerity. 

And  so,  although  he  was  dead  and  buried, 
Mr.  Orpiment  had  arranged  matters  in  such 
a  fashion  that  for  these  five  years  at  least  it 
by  no  means  could  be  said  with  any  sort  of 
truthfulness  that  he  had  perished  from  off 
the  earth. 

ABOUT  this  time  there  was  not  a  happier 
family  in  all  Greenwich,  nor  anywhere  else, 
for  that  matter,  than  the  Browns.  Mr.  Man- 
gan  Brown,  in  the  large-hearted  way  that  be- 


OR  PI  ME  NT  &•=    GAMBOGE.  11$ 

came  his  big  body  and  big  voice,  and  acting, 
of  course,  with  the  warm  approval  of  Miss 
Caledonia,  had  urged  Vandyke  and  Rose  so 
heartily  to  bring  the  baby  and  come  and  live 
with  them,  that  a  refusal  really  was  quite  out 
of  the  question.  So  it  came  to  pass  that  Mr. 
Mangan  Brown,  without  the  perceptible  quiv 
er  of  so  much  as  an  eyelash,  signed  a  check 
big  enough  to  pay  for  one  of  those  delight 
ful  houses,  with  gardens  in  front  of  them, 
and  broad  verandas  all  the  way  up  to  their 
third  stories,  in  West  Eleventh  Street — 
which  also  is  a  part  of  Greenwich  village,  as 
may  be  mentioned  for  the  information  of  the 
mass  of  New  Yorkers  who  know  nothing  of 
New  York. 

And  in  this  pretty  home,  one  bright  May 
day,  when  the  trees  and  gardens  were  glad 
in  their  fresh  loveliness  of  delicious  green, 
they  all  harmoniously  took  up  their  abode. 
Mr.  Mangan  Brown  had  the  second-story 
front,  and  Miss  Caledonia  and  Verona  had 
the  two  second-story  backs,  and  the  third 
floor  was  given  over  to  the  baby  and  Van- 


Il6  COLOR  STUDIES. 

dyke  and  Rose.  If  anything  could  make 
brighter  the  bright  spring-time,  it  was  the 
sight  of  Rose  and  the  baby  on  the  veranda 
in  the  early  morning  sunlight — Rose,  prettier 
than  ever,  laughing  delightedly  at  the  baby's 
earnest  efforts  to  reach  out  over  the  row  of 
flower-pots  and  clutch  the  swaying  branches 
of  the  trees.  Before  going  to  his  big  studio 
on  Fourteenth  Street,  to  begin  the  work  of 
the  day,  Van  liked  to  smoke  his  after-break 
fast  pipe  on  the  veranda  and  contemplate 
this  pretty  picture. 

In  the  two  years  which  had  slipped  away 
since  his  marriage  a  good  deal  more  than  he 
ever  had  dared  even  to  hope  for  had  come 
to  pass.  Thanks  to  his  own  pluck  and  hard 
work,  which  had  won  for  him  Uncle  Man- 
gan's  substantial  backing,  he  now  was  as  suc 
cessful  an  artist  as  there  was  to  be  found  in 
all  New  York.  At  times,  in  contemplation 
of  his  good  fortune,  he  was  rather  more  than 
half  inclined  to  think  that  he  must  be  some 
body  else  ;  an  excess  of  mysticism  that  Rose 
resolutely  refused  to  countenance — for  in 


ORPIMENT  &    GAMBOGE.  1 1/ 

such  a  case  to  whom  was  she  married  ?  she 
pertinently  asked.  As  for  Mr.  Mangan 
Brown,  from  being  rather  a  grumpy  sort  of 
an  old  fellow,  he  had  come  to  be  positively 
beaming — a  sort  of  overgrown  fairy  god 
father,  as  it  were,  to  the  whole  household. 
Not  even  the  most  remote  allusion  did  he 
now  make  to  the  commercial  rather  than 
natural  genesis  of  Miss  Caledonia's  back 
hair :  and  by  this  sign  Miss  Caledonia  knew 
that  he  had  experieaced  a  change  of  heart. 
Moreover,  he  was  instant  in  good  works  to 
each  of  the  several  members  of  the  family  ; 
indeed,  the  extraordinary  gifts  which  he 
constantly  brought  home  to  little  Madder 
(named  for  his  grandfather,  of  course)  kept 
Rose  constantly  in  a  condition  between 
laughter  and  tears. 

"  What  can  Madder  possibly  do  with  a 
grindstone,  Uncle  Mangan  ?  " 

"Possibly  nothing  at  present,  my  dear. 
But  I  remember  when  I  was  a  boy  and  lived 
in  the  country,  I  wanted  a  grindstone  more 
than  anything  else  in  the  world — especially 


Il8  COLOR  STUDIES. 

after  old  Mitre  Rabbit,  the  wheelwright,  you 
know,  said  that  I  couldn't  use  his ;  and  I  am 
sure  that  Madder  will  be  glad  enough,  when 
he  is  a  little  older,  to  have  one  of  his  own. 
It  can  go  in  the  cellar  until  he  wants  it,  and 
in  the  mean  time  it  will  be  useful  to  sharpen 
the  carving  knife." 

Rose  shuddered  as  her  imagination  con 
jured  up  a  ghastly  picture  of  Madder  more 
or  less  cut  to  pieces  with  the  knives  which 
the  grindstone  had  made  cruelly  sharp  ;  and 
she  registered  a  mental  vow  that  only  over 
her  dead  body  should  her  offspring  ever 
come  into  possession  of  this  shocking  gift. 

Now  two  of  the  most  constant  of  the  rather 
numerous  visitors  to  this  exceptionally  happy 
household  were  young  Orpiment  and  Mr. 
Gamboge.  All  the  way  along  for  the  past 
twenty  years  or  so,  Mr.  Gamboge  had  been 
in  the  habit  of  spending  one  or  two  evenings 
in  each  and  every  week  in  company  with 
Mr.  Mangan  Brown — his  friend  and  also  his 
associate  in  trade.  Mr.  Gamboge  and  Mr. 
Mangan  Brown  had  known  each  other  ever 


ORPIMENT  &    GAMBOGE.  1 19 

since  they  were  boys  ;  and  M.  Brown  &  Co., 
and  Orpiment  &  Gamboge  owned  in  partner 
ship  a  tannery  in  Lycoming  County,  Penn 
sylvania,  and  in  various  other  directions  the 
interests  of  the  two  firms  were  identical. 
Ostensibly,  the  visits  of  Mr.  Gamboge  were 
for  the  purpose  of  quietly  and  comfortably 
talking  over  the  affairs  of  the  tannery  ;  but 
it  was  an  open  secret — in  part  revealed  by 
the  exceptionally  careful  brushing  bestowed 
upon  his  fuzzy,  close-cropped,  grayish  hair, 
by  the  exceeding  smoothness  of  his  smooth- 
shaven,  fresh-colored  face,  by  the  admirable 
precision  of  the  cut  and  fit  of  his  neat  black 
clothes — that  their  real  object  was  Miss  Cale 
donia.  And  there  was  a  pleasant  twinkle  in 
his  kindly  gray  eyes  when  they  happened  to 
meet — as  they  very  often  did — Miss  Caledo 
nia's  kindly  brown  ones,  that  made  this  open 
secret  more  open  still. 

In  point  of  fact,  for  nearly  the  full  term  of 
the  twenty  years  during  which  Mr.  Gamboge 
had  been  making  his  weekly  visits,  he  had 
held  toward  Miss  Caledonia  the  somewhat 


I2O  COLOR  STUDIES. 

trying  position  of  an  earnest  but  undeclared 
lover.  His  earnestness  could  not  for  a  mo 
ment  be  doubted ;  but  although  Miss  Cale 
donia — in  a  strictly  proper  and  maidenly 
manner,  be  it  understood — had  contrived 
that  he  should  have  at  least  one  opportunity 
in  each  week  during  the  past  twenty  years 
for  making  to  her  a  formal  tender  of  the 
heart  that  she  well  knew  without  such  tender 
was  hers,  it  was  a  melancholy  fact  that  each 
of  these  ten  hundred  and  forty  opportunities 
successively  had  been  wasted. 

"  Did  he  say  anything  to-night,  Cale 
donia  ?  " 

"No,  brother,  not  to-night.  I  think — I 
think  that  next  week " 

*'  Um.  Possibly.  Good-night,  Caledo 
nia." 

"  Good-night,  brother." 

This  conversation  between  Mr.  Mangan 
Brown  and  Miss  Caledonia  had  come  to  be 
stereotyped.  Before  Mr.  Mangan  experi 
enced  his  change  of  heart  this  was  the  occa 
sion  that  he  usually  took  for  referring  to  the 


ORPIMENT  &    GAMBOGE.  121 

commercial  characteristics  of  her  back  hair 
in  terms  as  pointed  as  they  were  unkind. 
And  not  seldom  would  he  go  even  further, 
and  advise  that  Miss  Caledonia  should  in 
vestigate  into  the  requirements  precedent  to 
admission  into  Saint  Luke's  Home  for  Aged 
Couples,  on  Hudson  Street — assuring  her 
that  if  ever  she  and  Mr.  Gamboge  got  so  far 
along  as  to  want  a  home  for  couples  of  any 
sort,  this  certainly  would  be  the  only  home 
at  all  suited  to  their  needs.  Many  and 
many  a  night,  her  night-cap  being  drawn 
well  down  over  the  thinly-thatched  region 
that  was  covered  luxuriantly  by  the  hair  of 
commerce  by  day,  did  Miss  Caledonia  fall 
asleep  with  tears  in  her  gentle  brown  eyes 
and  heaviness  in  her  heart.  But,  being  a 
round  little  woman  of  sanguine  temperament, 
she  managed  on  the  whole  to  keep  up  her 
courage  pretty  well  Each  week,  when  Mr. 
Gamboge  meaningly  pressed  her  plump  little 
hand  as  he  bade  her  good-night,  yet  left  still 
unsaid  what  he  had  come  expressly  to  say, 
she  believed  that  the  next  week  would  see 


122  COLOR   STUDIES. 

his  moral  strength  established  firmly  at  last ; 
that  then  the  words  would  be  spoken  which 
he  so  earnestly  longed  to  utter,  and  which 
she  so  earnestly  longed  to  hear.  And  so 
believing,  Miss  Caledonia  lived  on  always 
in  hope. 

Now  the  trouble  with  Mr.  Gamboge  that 
made  him  keep  silence  in  this  provoking 
fashion  was  a  constitutional  indecision  that 
he  could  in  nowise  overcome.  Never  did 
there  live  a  man  with  less  of  positiveness  in 
his  nature  than  Mr.  Gamboge  had  in  his. 
This  was  the  reason  why  he  and  Mr.  Orpi- 
ment  always  had  got  along  so  well  together. 
Mr.  Orpiment,  on  the  shortest  notice,  could 
be  positive  enough  about  anything  for  six 
ordinary  people,  and  upon  this  superabun 
dance  of  resolution  Mr.  Gamboge  was  accus 
tomed  to  draw  in  order  to  make  good  his 
own  lack.  Indeed,  he  could  not  have 
adopted  any  other  line  of  conduct  without 
getting  into  difficulties,  for  Mr.  Orpiment,  as 
^s  the  way  with  positive  people  the  world 
Qver,  could  not  tolerate  even  the  most  re- 


ORPIMENT  &•    GAMBOGE.  123 

mote  approach  to  positiveness  on  the  part 
of  anybody  else.  He  might  admit,  perhaps, 
though  certainly  disdainfully,  that  in  the 
abstract  two  or  more  opinions  might  be 
entertained  upon  a  given  subject ;  but  the 
moment  that  the  matter  became  concrete, 
his  view  narrowed  into  the  unalterable  con 
viction  that  there  was  just  one  single  tenable 
opinion  concerning  it — and  that  was  his. 
And,  if  peace  was  to  be  preserved,  that 
opinion  had  to  be  adopted  in  a  hurry.  Mr. 
Gamboge,  whose  love  of  peace  was  so  great 
that  it  was  the  only  thing  in  the  world  that 
he  would  have  fought  for,  always  adopted 
his  partner's  opinions  with  a  becoming  alac 
rity.  Nor  did  he,  while  Mr.  Orpiment's 
convictions  were  in  course  of  formation,  vent 
ure  to  have  any  of  his  own.  If  appealed  to 
under  such  conditions,  his  answer  invariably 
was :  "I  am  waiting  to  confer  with  Mr. 
Orpiment."  And  upon  the  rare  occasions 
when,  in  some  matter  foreign  to  the  affairs 
of  the  firm,  he  ventured  so  far  as  to  express 
views  distinctively  his  own,  it  had  come  to 


COLOR   STUDIES. 

be  his  habit  to  preface  his  remarks  with 
some  such  phrase  as  "  Under  these  condi 
tions,  I  think  that  Mr.  Orpiment  would  say," 
or,  "  In  a  case  of  this  sort,  I  think  that  Mr. 
Orpiment  would  do."  The  fact  was  ob 
served,  however,  by  people  who  knew  both 
the  members  of  the  firm  well,  that  what  Mr. 
Gamboge  thus  said  or  did  under  the  sup 
posititious  shelter  of  Mr.  Orpiment's  mantle, 
usually  had  a  deal  more  of  quiet  good  sense 
about  it  than  probably  would  have  been 
manifested  had  the  matter  really  been  set 
tled  by  Mr.  Orpiment  himself. 

For  some  time  after  that  morning  when 
Mr.  Orpiment  stayed  at  home  and  died  in  his 
bed  instead  of  coming  down-town  in  the 
Bleecker  Street  car,  the  habit  of  referring  to 
his  late  partner's  opinions  increased  upon  Mr. 
Gamboge  greatly.  Not  a  hide,  not  even  a 
kip,  did  he  buy  or  sell  without  having  some 
thing  to  say  to  the  seller  or  buyer  as  to  what 
Mr.  Orpiment  would  have  thought  about  the 
terms  upon  which  the  transaction  was  con 
cluded.  But  again  it  was  observed  by  cer- 


ORPIMENT  &    GAMBOGE.  125 

tain  long-headed  leather-men  down  in  the 
Swamp,  that  since  the  decease  of  the  senior 
partner  the  firm  of  Orpiment  &  Gamboge 
was  doing  a  much  larger  and  also  a  much 
safer  business  than  ever  it  had  done  while 
the  very  positive  Mr.  Orpiment  was  alive. 

However,  the  habit  of  a  life-time  cannot 
be  given  over  in  a  day.  It  is  true  that  Mr. 
Gamboge,  now  that  Mr.  Orpiment  was 
buried  and  done  for,  was  beginning  gradu 
ally  to  have  a  few  opinions  and  a  trifling 
amount  of  positiveness  of  his  own  ;  but  as 
yet  it  was  all  too  soon  to  expect  him  to  pos 
sess,  still  less  to  act  upon,  a  positive  opinion 
touching  this  momentous  matter  of  his  own 
heart  and  Miss  Caledonia's  hand. 

As  to  the  other  visitor  at  the  Brown's, 
young  Orpiment,  matters  were  entirely  dif 
ferent.  With  an  energetic  promptness  that 
was  strictly  in  keeping  with  the  traditions  of 
his  family,  he  had  declared  his  love  for 
Verona  under  the  most  unfavorable  circum 
stances  and  in  the  most  unmistakable  terms. 
With  a  disregard  of  prudence  and  reason 


126  COLOR  STUDIES. 

that  was  positively  heroic,  he  had  made  this 
avowal  on  the  very  day  that  his  uncle  had 
bidden  him  begone  to  his  paint-pots  and 
starve.  Whether  he  thought  that  love,  be 
ing  had  in  sufficient  quantities,  would  make 
starvation  impossible,  or  that  if  he  must 
starve  it  would  be  pleasanter  to  do  it  in  lov 
ing  company,  I  am  not  prepared  to  say  ; 
but  it  is  a  fact  that  in  less  than  three  hours 
after  he  had,  as  he  put  it,  disinherited  his 
uncle,  he  had  asked  Verona  Brown  to  marry 
him — and  Verona  Brown,  collapsing  from 
the  pinnacle  of  dignity  upon  which  usually 
she  was  exalted,  suffered  her  beautiful  dark 
hair  to  be  shockingly  tumbled  upon  young 
Orpiment's  shoulder,  and,  with  infinite  ten 
derness  and  infinite  love  in  her  sweet,  low 
voice,  told  him  very  frankly  that  she  would  ! 
There  was  a  suggestion,  at  least,  of  poetic 
justice  in  this  reckless  entanglement  of 
Verona's  affections  by  young  Orpiment ;  for 
it  was  Vandyke  Brown  who  had  been  very 
largely  the  cause  of  the  entanglement  of 
young  Orpiment's  affections  by  the  goddess 


ORPIMENT  &   GAMBOGE.  12J 

Art,  to  the  utter  ruin  of  his  exceptionally 
brilliant  prospects  in  the  leather  business. 
Young  Orpiment  had  artistic  talent,  possibly 
artistic  genius,  and  Brown  had  the  wit  to 
perceive  it.  Without  thinking  of  the  harm 
that  he  might  be  doing,  he  urged  young 
Orpiment  to  abandon  the  leather  that  he 
hated  and  to  give  himself  to  the  art  that  he 
loved ;  and  it  was  not  until  his  advice  was 
taken,  and  he  was  called  upon  to  behold  the 
pretty  kettle  of  fish  that  had  come  of  it,  that 
he  perceived  what  a  serious  responsibility 
the  giving  of  advice  involves.  With  his  own 
dreary  experience  still  fresh  in  mind,  he 
realized  far  more  clearly  than  young  Orpi 
ment  did,  or  could,  how  nearly  hopeless  is 
the  struggle  for  artistic  success  when  the 
artist  has  to  earn  his  daily  bread  as  he  goes 
along.  But  he  kept  these  cheerful  reflec 
tions  to  himself — that  is  to  say,  to  himself 
and  Rose.  They  were  quite  agreed  that 
young  Orpiment  and  Verona  had  a  suffi 
ciency  of  troubles  in  hand  without  being 
called  upon  to  take  any  upon  interest. 


128  COLOR   STUDIES. 

To  be  sure,  there  was  a  ray  of  hope  for  a 
moment  when  Mr.  Orpiment  died,  for  young 
Orpiment  was  his  legal  and  only  heir.  But 
this  hope  was  promptly  extinguished,  or 
pretty  nearly  so,  by  Mr.  Orpiment's  extraor 
dinary  double-barrelled  will — with  that  omi 
nous  legacy  in  the  first  barrel  to  the  Protes 
tant  half-orphans. 

"  It  will  be  just  like  the  old  wretch  to 
have  left  those  miserable  half-orphans  every 
cent  of  his  money,  Van,"  said  Rose  with 
energetic  determination.  "  And  a  nice 
thing  that  will  be,  to  be  sure  ;  turning  all 
their  heads  by  making  so  many  millionaires 
of  them !  " 

"The  'ome  'alf-orphan,"  observed  Jaune 
d'Antimoine,  who  happened  to  be  present 
when  Rose  thus  freed  her  mind.  "  Ah,  'e  is 
the  estabelisment  most  curious  in  Tens 
Street.  I  'ave  much  vondered  at  'im.  Tell 
me,  my  Van,  what  is  this  'ome  'alf-orphan  ?  " 

"  It's  a  place  where  they  take  care  of  chil 
dren  born  with  only  one  leg  and  one  arm. 
Of  course,  children  like  that  have  to  be  taken 


ORPIMENT  &•    GAMBOGE.  1 29 

care  of  by  somebody.  It's  a  capital  charity. 
We'll  go  down  there  some  day  and  see  'em. 
They're  a  jolly  queer  lot  ;  all  go  about  hop 
ping,  you  know." 

"  Nonsense,  Van.  Don't  believe  him,  M. 
d'Antimoine.  They  are  called  half-orphans 
because  they  have  only  one  father  or  one 
mother.  I'm  a  half-orphan  myself." 

"  Eh  ?  But,  truly,  Madame  Brown,  it  is 
not  most  common  for  the  child  to  'ave  more 
fhan  one  father  or  one  mother — not,  that  is, 
is  it  thought  well  that  'e  should  'ave  more. 
Ah,  pardon  !  I  forget  that  Madame  says 
that  she  is  'erself  'alf-orphan.  No  doubt  to 
be  so  is  most  well  in  this  country.  In 
America  is  not  as  in  France." 

M.  d'Antimoine  no  more  comprehended 
why  Brown  went  off  into  such  fits  of  laughter, 
nor  why  Rose  blushed  a  little  and  laughed 
too,  than  he  did  the  laborious  explanation 
of  the  constituent  elements  of  a  half-orphan 
that  Brown,  under  the  circumstances,  felt 
called  upon  to  make  to  him. 

But  whether  Mr.  Orpiment's  money  was 
9 


I3O  COLOR  STUDIES. 

or  was  not  destined  for  the  use  of  this  excel 
lent  charity,  there  was  no  ground  for  hoping 
that  any  part  of  it  was  destined  for  his 
nephew ;  the  spiteful  clause  in  the  will  for 
bidding  Mr.  Gamboge  to  give  employment 
to  young  Orpiment  cut  hope  in  this  direction 
short  off.  Obviously,  this  clause  was  put  in 
to  serve  as  a  check  upon  any  indiscretion 
that  Mr.  Gamboge  might  be  led  into  by 
what  Mr.  Orpiment  always  had  styled  his 
absurdly  soft  heart ;  and  it  was  a  patent 
declaration  of  a  tolerably  positive  sort  that 
young  Orpiment  was  disinherited.  His  sole 
fortune,  under  these  circumstances,  was  a 
little  property  that  had  come  down  to  him 
from  his  father,  and  that  yielded  him  the 
magnificent  income  of  four  hundred  and 
seventy-one  dollars  a  year.  However,  this 
was  enough  to  keep  a  roof  over  his  head, 
and  to  feed  him  and  to  give  him  at  very 
long  intervals  something  in  the  way  of  new 
clothes.  Mr.  Gamboge,  by  artfully  repre 
senting  the  solitariness  of  his  own  home,  did 
his  best  to  make  young  Orpiment  come  and 


ORPIMENT  &    GAMBOGE.  131 

share  it  with  him  ;  but  his  uncommonly  tall 
stories  about  his  melancholy  loneliness  — 
stories,  let  us  hope,  which  were  promptly 
blotted  out  in  the  celestial  account  against 
him  by  the  friendly  tears  of  the  recording 
angel — did  not  deceive  his  auditor.  Grate 
fully,  but  decidedly,  the  tender  thus  made 
of  exceedingly  comfortable  free  quarters  was 
declined.  But  the  invitations  to  dinner  that 
Mr.  Gamboge  and  the  Browns  showered 
upon  him  could  not  be  refused — at  least  not 
without  giving  pain  ;  and  so,  while  his  rai 
ment  was  anything  but  purple  and  fine  linen, 
young  Orpiment  at  least  fared  sumptuous 
ly  pretty  nearly  every  day.  And  he  was 
cheered  and  comforted,  as  only  the  love  of  a 
good  woman  can  cheer  and  comfort  a  man, 
by  the  love  of  Verona  Brown. 

Verona  certainly  manifested  a  most  con 
spicuous  lack  of  worldly  wisdom  in  thus 
lavishing  her  affections  upon  a  man  whose 
fortunes  were  so  near  to  being  desperate. 
But  then — excepting  in  the  case  of  Mr. 
Mangan — worldly  wisdom  was  not  a  promi- 


132  COLOR   STUDIES. 

nent  characteristic  of  the  Brown  family  ;  and 
even  Mr.  Mangan  had  less  of  it  now  than  he 
had  before  he  experienced  his  change  of 
heart.  Only  a  couple  of  years  earlier  in  his 
life,  acting  in  the  capacity  of  Verona's  guar 
dian,  he  would  have  shown  young  Orpi- 
ment  to  the  door  with  amazing  promptitude 
and  energy,  had  he  ventured  to  present  him 
self,  under  such  circumstances  as  at  present 
existed,  in  the  guise  of  Verona's  suitor. 
And,  in  truth,  he  had  no  great  liking  for 
what  was  going  on  now  ;  but  now,  at  least, 
he  took  a  larger,  a  more  liberal  view  of  life 
than  had  been  his  habit  in  the  past — for  the 
lesson  that  he  had  learned  from  his  relations 
with  Van  had  made  him  more  tolerant. 
Therefore  it  was  that,  instead  of  heaping 
maledictions  upon  young  Orpiment's  head, 
he  ordered  a  landscape  from  him.  In  due 
time  this  order  was  rilled,  and  the  picture 
was  sent  home.  There  was  ever  so  much 
of  it,  and  its  light  and  shade  were  ever  so 
queer,  and  there  was  something  dreadfully 
wrong  in  its  perspective  ;  but,  for  all  its 


ORPIMENT  &>    GAMBOGE.  1 33 

eccentricities,  there  were  in  it  hints  of  genu 
ine  good  quality.  It  was  a  harrowing  thing 
of  look  at,  of  course  ;  but  its  badness  was 
the  badness  of  a  crudity  in  which  there  was 
hope. 

So  they  had  young  Orpiment  to  dinner, 
and  after  dinner  the  picture  was  hung 
solemnly  over  the  mantel-piece  in  the  front 
parlor.  This  was  an  honorable  position  for 
it  to  occupy,  and  it  was  a  position  that  pos- 
jessed  certain  practical  advantages ;  for 
when  the  gas  was  lighted,  unless  you  climbed 
over  one  of  the  diagonally  placed  sofas  and 
got  quite  into  one  of  the  corners  of  the  room, 
the  picture  had  such  a  glitter  upon  it  that  it 
simply  was  invisible.  Old  Madder,  who 
also  was  dining  with  them  that  night,  began 
to  comment  upon  this  fact — and  only  made 
matters  worse  by  asking  Rose,  in  an  ag 
grieved  tone,  what  he  was  saying  that  he 
shouldn't  say  to  make  her  pinch  him  so. 

Of  course  this  was  not  a  genuine  sale, 
looking  at  the  matter  from  an  artist's  stand 
point  ;  and  certain  other  sales — to  Mr.  Gam- 


134  COLOR  STUDIES. 

boge  and  to  some  of  the  friends  of  these  two 
purchasers — were  not  genuine  either  ;  but 
they  served  their  well-meant  purpose  of 
keeping  the  fire  going  under  the  pot  that 
young  Orpiment  so  gallantly  was  striving  to 
make  boil. 

Old  Madder,  by  the  way,  much  enjoyed 
dining  with  the  young  people,  and  they  and 
Mr.  Mangan  and  Miss  Caledonia  made  him 
very  welcome.  At  these  dinners  he  con 
ducted  himself  upon  the  lines  of  a  serious 
dignity,  and  seriously  talked  art  to  Mr. 
Mangan,  whose  knowledge  of  art  was  lim 
ited  to  a  commercial  appreciation  of  the 
value  of  gilt  decorations  on  red  leather  boot- 
tops  designed  for  the  Western  trade ;  or, 
when  he  happened  to  be  in  a  cantankerous 
mood,  made  vicious  thrusts  at  Van  and  the 
young  geniuses  generally,  under  the  guise 
of  lamentations  over  the  degeneracy  of 
modern  painters.  His  own  work,  of  course, 
continued  to  be  as  exasperating  as  ever. 
He  nearly  drove  Van  wild  by  insisting  upon 
painting  a  portrait  of  little  Madder,  that  was 


ORPIMENT  &    GAMBOGE.  135 

hung  on  the  line  at  the  Academy,  and  that 
was  described  in  the  catalogue  as  "  Grand 
father's  Darling."  From  the  degenerate 
modern  painters  with  whom  he  associated, 
Van  did  not  hear  the  last  of  that  horrible 
caricature  of  his  first-born  for  years.  Among 
the  League  men  the  picture  was  styled 
"The  Slaughter  of  the  Innocent" — which 
naturally  enough  led  somebody  to  speak  of 
the  artist  as  Herod,  and  so  won  for  old 
Madder  the  nickname  of  Herod  Madder  that 
he  bore,  without  knowing  it,  to  the  end  of 
his  days.  After  this  bitter  experience,  when 
old  Madder  wanted  to  paint  Rose  and  the 
new  baby,  little  Caledonia  (to  all  intents  and 
purposes  his  "  Soldier's  Widow  and  Orphaned 
Child  "  over  again),  and  call  it  "  The  Young 
Mother's  First  Love,"  Brown  put  his  foot 
down  firmly  and  said  that  it  should  not  be 
done.  And  not  until  several  months  had 
passed — in  the  course  of  which  old  Madder 
gradually  had  convinced  himself  that  Brown 
was  jealous  of  his  superior  work,  and  that, 
under  these  circumstances,  he  could  afford  to 


I$6  COLOR   STUDIES. 

be  magnanimous  —  did  old  Madder  and 
Brown  get  along  well  together  again. 

By  the  time  that  this  second  baby  was 
born,  Brown  had  conquered  so  firm  a  stand 
ing-place,  and  was  so  crowded  with  work 
that  his  acceptance  of  an  order  had  come  to 
be  considered  something  of  a  favor.  Young 
Orpiment,  being  present  one  day  when  an 
order  actually  was  rejected,  and  knowing 
that  Brown  had  fought  and  won  just  such  a 
battle  as  he  was  fighting,  felt  himself  stirred 
with  hope. 

And,  in  truth,  as  the  season  of  his  appren 
ticeship  wore  away,  there  came  to  be  a  good 
deal  for  young  Orpiment  to  feel  hopeful 
about.  Working  steadily  and  earnestly,  the 
weeks  and  the  months  slipped  by  until  he 
found  behind  him,  since  the  day  when  he 
forswore  Leather  as  a  master  and  took  for 
his  mistress  Art,  three  whole  years ;  and 
three  years  of  honest  hard  work,  if  a  man 
has  got  anything  in  him  to  begin  with,  is 
bound  to  tell.  His  little  pictures  —  after 
those  first  orders  he  had  the  sense  not  to 


ORPIMENT  &    GAMBOGE.  137 

paint  big  ones — had  a  fair  sale  now  on  their 
merits.  They  did  not  sell  for  much,  it  is 
true,  and  they  still  were  a  long  way  off  from 
being  really  good  work ;  but  at  least  the 
good  quality  that  was  in  them  no  longer  was 
obscured  by  bad  perspective  and  by  doubt 
ful  light  and  shade.  They  had  a  clear,  fresh 
tone,  moreover,  that  was  distinctively  their 
own.  Being  sent  to  the  exhibitions,  they 
no  longer  were  rejected  ;  and  some  of  the 
more  recent  ones  had  taken  a  most  encour 
aging  step  downward  from  the  sky  toward 
the  line.  The  newspapers  began  to  men 
tion  his  work  respectfully,  and  The  Skeptic, 
with  an  amiable  exercise  of  its  powers  of 
prophecy  based  upon  its  faculty  for  recog 
nizing  genius  in  embryo,  even  went  so  far  as 
to  say  that  in  him  another  landscape  painter 
had  been  born. 

All  this  was  tremendously  encouraging,  of 
course,  and  young  Orpiment  was  heartened 
and  comforted  by  it  greatly  ;  but  even  with 
such  good  fortune  attending  him,  he  could 
not  but  find  weariness  in  his  long  time  of 


138  COLOR   STUDIES. 

waiting  for  an  income  from  his  work  that 
would  enable  him  to  make  Verona  his  wife. 
Both  Mr.  Mangan  Brown  and  Mr.  Gamboge 
had  offered  repeatedly  to  discount  for  him 
the  future  that  now  pretty  certainly  was  his  ; 
but  this  good  offer,  with  Verona's  entire  ap 
proval,  he  decidedly  refused.  If  Verona 
would  wait  for  him  while  he  worked,  he  said 
— and  the  light  of  a  strong  resolution  shone 
in  his  blue  eyes — he  would  work  on  until  his 
success  was  won.  And  Verona,  with  the 
gentle  dignity  that  was  natural  to  her,  drew 
up  her  tall,  graceful  figure  to  its  full  height, 
and  answered  simply  that  she  would  wait — 
would  wait,  she  said,  and  without  the  least 
intention  of  irony,  for  forty  years. 

For  these  expectant  lovers,  the  example 
set  them  by  Miss  Caledonia  and  Mr.  Gam 
boge  was  most  encouraging.  What  was 
their  three  years  of  probation  in  comparison 
with  the  three-and-twenty  years  of  probation 
that  their  elders  had  endured  ?  And  the 
encouragement  thus  given  was  all  the 
greater  because,  as  time  went  on,  the  matri- 


ORPIMENT  &>    GAMBOGE.  139 

monial  prospects  of  Mr.  Gamboge  and  Miss 
Caledonia  apparently  stood  still.  In  the 
past  three  years  Miss  Caledonia  had  con 
trived  near  eight-score  fresh  opportunities 
for  the  long-delayed  proposal ;  and  on  each 
of  these  several  occasions  Mr.  Gamboge  had 
hesitated  until  his  opportunity  was  lost.  On 
the  whole,  however,  Miss  Caledonia's  san 
guine  nature  found  cause  for  encouragement 
in  the  perceptible  change  that  had  come  over 
Mr.  Gamboge  as  these  three  years  sped  by. 
No  less  than  twice,  to  her  certain  knowledge, 
had  he  expressed  positively  a  positive  opin 
ion  of  his  own.  On  a  memorable  Saturday 
he  had  said,  in  a  firm  voice,  before  the  whole 
family  assembled  at  the  dinner-table,  that 
rare  roast  beef  was  much  improved  by  horse 
radish.  On  a  memorable  Thursday  evening 
he  had  said,  addressing  Mr.  Mangan  Brown, 
and  in  a  tone  of  bold  effrontery  that  thrilled 
her  soul  with  joy,  that  "  this  idiotic  tinkering 
at  the  tariff  on  foreign  leather  was  simply 
unpardonable."  On  neither  of  these  occa 
sions  did  Mr.  Gamboge  refer  even  remotely 


140  COLOR  STUDIES. 

to  Mr.  Orpiment :  not  a  word  about  Mr. 
Orpiment's  preferences  in  the  matter  of 
applying  horse-radish  to  roast  beef;  not  a 
word  about  Mr.  Orpiment's  opinions  in  re 
gard  to  the  customs  duties  on  foreign  hides. 
Here  was  living  proof  that  Mr.  Gamboge 
was  getting  to  have  a  will  of  his  own  ;  and 
here,  consequently,  was  substantial  ground 
upon  which  Miss  Caledonia  could  found  her 
conviction  that  a  happy  ending  to  her  long 
courting  was  near  at  hand. 

Nor  was  this  all.  To  the  best  of  Miss 
Caledonia's  belief,  Mr.  Gamboge  actually 
once  had  got  so  far  as  to  make  a  real  start 
toward  speaking  the  momentous  words  which 
would  resolve  into  a  glad  certainty  their 
three-and-twenty  years  of  doubt.  It  was 
upon  a  pleasant  Sunday  afternoon  in  the  late 
spring-time  that  Mr.  Gamboge  got  started — 
in  the  mellow  weather  when  the  buds  of  May 
were  bursting  into  the  blossoms  of  June,  and 
all  nature  was  glad  with  the  bright  promise 
of  the  coming  summer's  generous  life.  They 
two  were  seated  alone  upon  the  veranda, 


ORPIMENT  &    GAMBOGE.  141 

screened  from  the  too-curious  gaze  of  pass 
ers-by  by  festoons  of  the  climbing  plants 
which  had  shot  up  blithely  since  the  warm 
days  began  ;  and  Mr.  Gamboge,  in  a  state 
of  post-prandial  contentment,  was  smoking 
an  especially  satisfactory  cigar.  After  the 
fashion  of  a  dove-like  serpent,  Miss  Cale 
donia  by  degrees  had  shifted  the  ground  of 
their  talk  until  it  had  come  to  be  of  the 
dreary  life  that  Mr.  Gamboge  was  leading  in 
his  great  house  wherein  he  dwelt  alone. 
There  was  a  tender  solicitude  in  Miss  Cale 
donia's  tone  that  sunk  deep  into  the  heart  of 
Mr.  Gamboge  and  wrought  great  havoc 
there.  Her  low,  gentle  voice  sounded 
sweetly  in  his  ears  ;  her  suggestions  for  his 
comfort  were  practical  without  being  revolu 
tionary  ;  he  felt — but  more  keenly  than  ever 
before  in  all  the  twenty-three  years — that  in 
Miss  Caledonia  he  would  find  a  helpmate 
indeed.  His  excellent  dinner — prepared,  as 
he  well  knew,  under  Miss  Caledonia's  super 
vision — his  excellent  cigar,  the  soft  spring 
weather,  Miss  Caledonia's  pleasingly  plump 


142  COLOR  STUDIES. 

person  and  sympathetic  words  :  all  these 
agreeable  forces,  acting  upon  his  newly  ac 
quired  disposition  to  have  a  will  of  his  own 
and  to  use  it,  conspired  to  make  him  utter 
the  decisive  words.  A  nervous  thrill  went 
over  him,  and  he  straightened  himself  in  his 
chair.  Miss  Caledonia  saw  what  was  com 
ing,  and  was  struck  with  awe.  She  ceased 
speaking  ;  her  hands  fluttered  with  her  hand 
kerchief;  there  was  a  trembling  of  her  lips. 

"  In  regard  to  our  personal  relations,  Miss 
Caledonia,  I  am  sure  that  Mr.  Orpiment 
would  have  said — that  is,  I  know  that  under 
these  conditions  Mr.  Orpiment  would  have 
done — in  fact,  I  am  confident  that  Mr.  Orpi 
ment  would  have  approved " 

"  Oh,  confound  old  Orpiment,"  said  that 
wretched  Vandyke  Brown,  stepping  out 
upon  the  veranda  through  the  open  window 
in  time  to  hear  this  last  mention  of  Mr.  Orpi- 
ment's  name.  "  Of  course  you  know,  Mr. 
Gamboge,"  he  went  on,  "  I  don't  want  to 
hurt  your  feelings,  or  anything  " — for  he  saw 
that  Mr.  Gamboge  was  very  much  upset — 


ORPIMENT  &    GAMBOGE.  143 

"  But  when  I  think  what  a  lot  of  good  that 
old  screw  might  have  done  by  leaving  his 
money  to  his  nephew,  and  so  giving  him  a 
fair  start  in  the  world,  I  really  can't  help 
hating  the  very  sound  of  his  name. 

"  Aunt  Caledonia,  Rose  wants  to  know  if 
you  can  tell  what  on  earth  has  gone  with 
Madder's  light  cloak.  You  had  him  out  yes 
terday,  you  know,  and  Rose  can't  find  it 
anywhere." 

"You  will  find  it  where  it  belongs,"  an 
swered  Miss  Caledonia  frigidly,  "  on  the 
third  shelf  of  the  closet  in  the  back  room." 

And  so  good  fortune  had  come  sailing 
down  over  the  sea  of  hope  to  Miss  Caledonia 
— even  had  stopped  to  signal  her — and  then 
had  sailed  away  !  After  that  rude  interrup 
tion  the  perturbed  spirit  of  Mr.  Gamboge— 
although  Miss  Caledonia  did  her  best  to 
bring  it — could  not  be  brought  back  to  the 
tender  mood  that  so  fairly  had  promised  a 
fair  solution  of  the  long-vexed  problem  of 
their  lives.  Still,  having  come  thus  close  to 
happiness,  Miss  Caledonia  felt  more  than 


144  COLOR  STUDIES. 

ever   certain   that  happiness  yet  would  be 
hers. 

So  the  months  went  rolling  on  and  on, 
and  the  time  drew  near  when  Mr.  Orpiment's 
five  years'  lease  upon  posterity  would  end. 
Under  the  judicious  management  of  Mr. 
Gamboge,  his  late  partner's  estate  had  in 
creased  prodigiously,  and  the  prospects  of 
the  Protestant  half-orphans  were  amazingly 
fine. 

"I  don't  doubt  that  the  miserable  little 
creatures  will  get  fifty  thousand  dollars 
apiece — and  I  hope  that  it  will  choke  them  !  " 
said  Rose  in  a  fine  burst  of  indignation  and 
in  a  fine  mixture  of  metaphors.  Nothing 
that  Van  could  say  could  convince  Rose  that 
Mr.  Orpiment's  property  would  not  be  di 
vided  up  among  the  individual  half-orphans 
in  the  asylum  at  the  time  when  the  bequest 
became  operative. 

As  to  young  Orpiment,  he  really  did  not 
care  very  much  now  whether  the  half-orphans 
got  his  uncle's  money  or  not.  He  was  fairly 


ORPIMENT  &    GAMBOGE.  145 

on  his  legs  by  this  time,  with  a  steady  income 
of  two  thousand  dollars  or  so  a  year,  and  he 
and  Verona  were  to  be  married  very  soon. 
Of  course,  they  would  have  to  live  in  a  very 
quiet  way,  and  some  of  the  things  which 
they  most  wanted  to  do — the  trip  to  the 
glorious  mountain  region  of  Northern  New 
Mexico,  for  instance — would  have  to  wait 
awhile.  But  the  great  point  was  that  at  last 
he  was  earning  enough  by  his  own  work  to 
permit  him,  without  utterly  defying  Mr. 
Mangan  Brown  and  worldly  wisdom,  to 
make  Verona  his  wife. 

For  young  Orpiment  had  fought  bravely 
and  had  won  gallantly  his  battle  for  the 
standard  of  Art.  And  wasn't  Verona  proud 
of  him,  though  !  For  Verona  knew  that  his 
fight  for  success  as  an  artist  was  only  the 
visible  form  of  his  fight  for  success  as  a 
lover ;  and  all  the  wealth  of  her  strong  love, 
all  her  honoring  esteem,  went  out  to  this 
her  hero,  who,  for  her  love's  sake,  had  con 
quered  the  world  ! 

With  the  solemnity  befitting   so   decisive 


146  COLOR  STUDIES. 

an  occasion,  Mr.  Gamboge  wrote  a  formal 
invitation  to  young  Orpiment  to  be  present, 
on  the  fifth  anniversary  of  the  day  after  the 
day  of  Mr.  Orpiment's  death,  at  the  going 
off  of  the  second  barrel  of  Mr.  Orpiment's 
will.  But,  in  order  to  mitigate  the  formality 
a  little,  and  to  make  somewhat  less  solemn 
the  solemnity,  Mr.  Gamboge  himself  handed 
the  written  invitation  to  young  Orpiment, 
and  added  to  it  a  verbal  invitation  to  come 
and  dine  with  him  as  a  preliminary  to  the 
reading.  Under  the  circumstances,  the  fact 
was  obvious  that  Verona  had  a  constructive 
right  to  be  present  when  the  will  was  read ; 
and  as  Verona  could  not  with  propriety  be 
present  alone,  the  necessity  presented  itself 
of  asking  Miss  Caledonia  to  come  with  her. 
Naturally,  this  suggested  the  advisability  of 
asking  Mr.  Mangan  Brown  too.  And  hav 
ing  got  this  far,  Mr.  Gamboge  concluded 
that  he  might  just  as  well  go  a  little  farther 
and  ask  Van  and  Rose  and  old  Madder  ;  and 
so  he  did. 

It  was   only  a  lucky  accident,   however, 


ORPIMENT  &    GAMBOGE.  147 

that  saved  the  party  from  being  entirely 
broken  up  by  a  rash  act  of  little  Caledonia's. 
Van  wanted  Rose's  hands  for  something  that 
he  was  painting,  and  she  had  gone  up  to  the 
studio  the  day  before  the  will  dinner-party 
— as  she  styled  the  feast  that  Mr.  Gamboge 
was  to  give — taking  the  baby  along  with  her. 
There  was  not  much  of  this  baby,  and  she 
was  not  quite  two  years  old,  but  she  had  a 
faculty  for  getting  into  pickles  far  beyond 
her  size  and  years.  However,  there  did  not 
seem  to  be  much  chance  for  her  to  get  into 
trouble  on  the  studio  floor. 

The  fact  must  be  confessed  that,  although 
they  had  been  married  for  five  years,  Rose 
and  Van  had  a  shocking  habit  of  philander 
ing  ;  and  so  it  fell  out,  when  he  had  put  in 
her  hands  to  his  satisfaction,  that  he  had 
laid  down  his  palette  and  brushes  on  the  foot 
of  his  easel,  and  somehow  they  had  drifted 
into  the  big  chair,  and  had  got  to  talking 
about  that  autumn  morning  when  "  Lydia 
Darragh  "  perished,  and  the  great  happiness 
of  their  lives  began. 


148  COLOR   STUDIES. 

"  It  was  dreadful,  Van,  the  way  that  I  told 
you,  right  out  before  all  those  men,  that  I 
loved  you  !  I  never  can  think  of  it  without 
blushing."  (Rose  was  blushing  most  charm 
ingly,  and  that  was  a  fact.)  "  But  I  really 
never  thought  of  them  at  all,  and  that's  the 
solemn  truth.  All  that  I  thought  of  was 
your  ruined  work,  and  of  what  you  were 
working  for — it  was  me  that  you  were  work 
ing  for,  you  know,  and  I  knew  all  about  it  ! 
— and  of  trying  to  comfort  you.  Did  it 
comfort  you,  dear  ?  Are  you  sure,  Van,  that 
you  are  glad  that  you  married  me  ?  Have  I 
really  made  you  happy?  You  are  so  good 
to  me 

"  Caledonia  !  Caledonia  !  STOP  !  Merci 
ful  heaven,  Van,  she's  got  your  palette  and 
is  eating  the  paints  !  Our  child  is  poisoned  ! 
She  will  die  !  "  And  Rose  shot  up,  much  as 
she  would  have  done  had  Van  been  a  cata 
pult  and  suddenly  gone  off,  and  caught  the 
chromnivorous  infant  in  her  arms. 

Van  was  pretty  badly  scared  too,  but  he 
had  his  wits  about  him,  and  looked  at  the 


ORPIMENT   &>    GAMBOGE.  149 

palette  before  giving  his  assent  to  Rose's 
alarmed  proposition  that  death  by  poison 
must  be  the  inevitable  result  of  Caledonia's 
unnatural  repast. 

"  Steady,  Rose.  I  guess  it's  all  right. 
She's  begun  at  the  black  end  of  the  palette, 
luckily,  and  she's  eaten  only  as  far  as  asphal- 
tum.  No  doubt  she'll  have  a  lively  time  in 
her  little  inside,  but  she  hasn't  had  a  scrap 
of  the  light  colors,  and  there's  nothing  in 
the  dark  ones  to  damage  her  mudh.  But 
we'd  better  rush  her  off  to  the  doctor,  all  the 
same." 

And  Van  was  right.  Caledonia  did  not 
perish,  but  she  had  a  tremendously  large 
stomach-ache  for  so  small  a  stomach,  and  she 
kept  her  bed  for  the  remainder  of  the  day. 
Mr.  Mangan  Brown,  in  a  well-meant  en 
deavor  to  mitigate  the  severity  of  her  suf 
ferings,  the  very  next  morning  bought  her  a 
concertina,  and  a  pair  of  skates,  and  a  richly 
illustrated  octavo  Life  of  Washington.  That 
these  appropriate  gifts  inured  to  her  better 
ment  is  problematical,  but  she  certainly  was 


150  COLOR  STUDIES. 

so  completely  recovered  by  the  ensuing 
evening  that  her  illness  was  no  barrier  to  the 
success  of  the  will  dinner-party  given  by 
Mr.  Gamboge. 

The  dinner  in  every  way  was  admirable 
— although  Miss  Caledonia  secretly  noticed 
certain  shortcomings  in  the  service,  which 
she  promptly  resolved  should  be  corrected 
when  she  was  called  upon  to  take  command. 
But  for  all  the  excellence  of  the  dinner,  the 
assembled  company  was  disposed  to  slight 
it — to  hurry  through  with  it  in  order  to  get 
at  the  reading  of  the  will.  Even  the  fact 
that  young  Orpiment  on  that  very  day  had 
sold  his  big  picture,  "  Spring  on  the  Hud 
son  Highlands,"  for  $450 — the  highest  price 
that  anything  of  his  so  far  had  brought — 
scarcely  made  a  ripple  upon  the  strong 
stream  of  curiosity  that  was  sweeping  for 
ward  toward  the  moment  when  positive 
knowledge  would  determine  what  part  the 
Protestant  half-orphans  were  to  play  in  the 
final  disposition  of  Mr.  Orpiment's  estate. 

"  If  it  wasn't  for  Verona,  he  might  pick 


ORPIMENT  &    GAM3OGE.  I$I 

out  the  nicest  looking  of  the  girl  half- 
orphans  for  a  wife,  and  get  part  of  it  back 
that  way,"  said  Rose  under  her  breath  to 
Van,  as  they  passed  from  the  dining-room  to 
the  library,  where  Mr.  Gamboge  was  to  read 
the  will.  "  But  as  things  are,  though,"  she 
added  with  a  touch  of  melancholy  in  her 
tone,  "that  is  quite  out  of  the  question." 

"What  would  be  even  better,"  Van  an 
swered  seriously,  "  would  be  for  him  to  drop 
Verona,  turn  Mormon,  and  marry  'em  all. 
Then  he'd  bag  half  of  it,  anyway." 

"  Of  course  you  all  know,"  said  Mr.  Gam 
boge  in  a  slightly  oratorical  tone,  holding  the 
sealed  will  in  his  hand,  "  that  I  have  no 
knowledge  whatever  of  the  contents  of  this 
document.  Should  its  contents  be  what  I 
fear  they  are,  you  all  know  that  I  shall  feel, 
as  you  all  will  feel,  that  a  great  injustice  has 
been  done  to  our  young  and  gifted  friend  ; 
to  our  friend,  who  by  his  noble  force  of 
character,  not  less  than  by  his  great  genius — " 

"Don't,"  said  young  Orpiment,  appeal- 
ingly. 


I$2  COLOR   STUDIES. 

"  Well,  I  won't,"  said  Mr.  Gamboge,  drop 
ping  suddenly  from  his  oratorical  heights. 
"  But  I  will  say  this  :  if  the  estate  don't  come 
to  you,  my  dear  boy,  I  shall  think  less  of 
Mr.  Orpiment's  judgment  then  I  ever  did — 
and  I  never  did  think  much  of  it,  anyway." 

At  these  spirited  words  Miss  Caledonia's 
heart  gave  a  bound — for  she  perceived  that 
now,  beyond  a  doubt  or  a  peradventure,  Mr. 
Gamboge  had  come  into  the  kingdom  of  his 
personal  independence  at  last :  and  she  was 
his  waiting  queen  !  As  for  Mr.  Mangan 
Brown,  his  lower  jaw  dropped  as  though  the 
muscles  had  parted ;  and  Van  gave  utterance 
to  a  prolonged  whistle  that  Rose  had  the 
presence  of  mind  to  conceal  by  coughing 
violently. 

Oblivious  to  the  sensation  caused  by  his 
revolutionary  declaration,  Mr.  Gamboge  ad 
justed  his  spectacles,  broke  the  three  black 
seals,  and  began  the  reading  of  the  will.  It 
set  out  with  the  affirmation  that  Mr.  Orpi- 
ment  feared  God  and  was  in  his  right  mind 
— statements  which  caused  Miss  Caledonia 


ORPIMENT  6"    GAMBOGE.  153 

to  purse  her  lips  together  doubtingly — and 
went  on  with  a  list  of  the  testator's  posses 
sions  :  the  house  in  which  he  had  lived,  and 
some  other  houses  ;  his  share  in  the  tannery 
in  Lycoming  County,  Pennsylvania  ;  some 
warehouses  down-town  ;  some  building  lots 
on  Seventy-ninth  Street  ;  various  stocks  and 
bonds  ;  and  his  interest  in  the  leather  busi 
ness  carried  on  by  the  firm  of  Orpiment  & 
Gamboge. 

"  I  wonder  how  the  half-orphans  will  settle 
about  the  houses  and  building  lots  ?  "  Rose 
whispered  inquiringly  as  Mr.  Gamboge 
paused  at  the  end  of  the  list. 

"  Draw  lots  for  'em,  probably,"  Van  whis 
pered  in  reply. 

Mr.  Gamboge  read  on  :  "Whereas,  by  my 
will  to  which  this  codicil  is  supplement,  I 
gave  all  my  residuary  estate  to  my  executors 
upon  certain  trusts,  now  I  appoint  the  fur 
ther  trusts  referred  to  in  said  will  as  con 
tained  in  this  codicil." 

At  last  Mr.  Orpiment's  intentions  were  to 
be  made  plain.  Everybody  bent  forward, 


154  COLOR  STUDIES. 

listening  eagerly,  and  Mr.  Gamboge  could 
not  keep  his  voice  from  trembling  :  "  At  the 
end  of  the  said  period  of  five  years  from  the 
time  of  my  decease  I  direct  my  executors  to 
assign,  convey,  and  pay  over  the  whole  of 
my  residuary  estate  with  its  increase  and  ac 
cumulations  to  the  person  who,  when  the 
same  is  payable,  shall  act  as  treasurer  to  the 
Society  for  the  Relief  of  Half-Orphan  and 
Destitute  Children  in  the  City  of  New  York, 
to  be  applied  to  the  charitable  uses  and  pur 
poses  of  said  society  under  its  direction." 
Mr.  Gamboge  gave  an  audible  groan,  laid 
the  will  down  on  his  knee,  took  off  his  spec 
tacles,  which  suddenly  had  grown  misty, 
and  with  his  silk  handkerchief  wiped  them 
dry. 

"The  unfeeling,  unnatural,  heartless  old 
wretch  !  "  cried  Rose. 

"  Never  mind,  dear ;  you  have  conquered 
fortune  for  yourself,  and  I  love  you  a  thou 
sand  times  more  for  it,"  said  Verona  in  a  low 
voice,  as  she  took  young  Orpiment's  hand 
in  both  of  hers. 


ORPIMENT  &    GAMBOGE.  155 

"  It  is  shameful  !  "  said  Miss  Caledonia. 

"It  is  just  what  I  expected,"  said  Mr. 
Mangan  Brown;  "but  I'm  uncommonly 
sorry  for  you,  all  the  same,  Orpiment." 

"  It's  all  my  fault,  for  leading  you  off  into 
painting  ;  I  hope  devoutly  that  you  may  live 
long  enough  to  forgive  me,  old  fellow,"  said 
Van,  ruefully. 

"  Nonsense,  Van.  You've  been  the  mak 
ing  of  me,  and  I  never  can  be  sufficiently 
thankful  to  you,"  young  Orpiment  answered 
in  a  cheery  tone  that  had  a  thoroughly  genu 
ine  ring  to  it. 

"Art  alone  is  worth  living  for,  Mr.  Orpi 
ment,''  said  old  Madder.  "  Because  you 
have  escaped  the  thralldom  of  riches,  I  con 
gratulate  you  with  all  my  heart  !  " 

"  There's  another  page  of  the  thing,"  said 
Mr.  Gamboge  dismally,  and  making  as  he 
spoke  a  suspicious  dab  at  his  eyes  with  his 
big  handkerchief.  "  We  may  as  well  get 
done  with  it,"  and  he  turned  the  page  and 
read  on  : 

"  Provided,  that  at  the  end  of  said  period 


15^  COLOR   STUDIES. 

of  five  years  from  the  time  of  my  decease 
my  nephew  shall  not  have  proved,  by  earning 
from  the  sale  of  his  pictures  an  income  of 
not  less  than  $2,000  yearly;  that  in  abandon 
ing  the  leather  business  and  in  adopting  the 
business  of  picture-painting,  he  was  right  in 
the  choice  of  his  vocation  and  I  was  wrong. 
Should  this  very  improbable  contingency 
arise,  then  at  the  time  aforesaid  I  direct  my 
executors  to  assign,  convey,  and  pay  over  to 
him,  my  said  nephew,  the  whole  of  my  re 
siduary  estate  with  its  increase  and  accumu 
lations,  to  him,  his  heirs,  executors,  adminis 
trators,  and  assigns  forever." 

"  God  bless  you,  my  dear  boy  ! "  fairly 
shouted  Mr.  Gamboge,  dashing  down  the 
will  and  his  spectacles  and  his  handkerchief 
upon  the  floor,  and  rushing  over  to  young 
Orpiment  and  hugging  him.  "  God  bless 
you,  my  dear  boy,  the  estate  really  is  yours 
after  all !  " 

And  everybody — everybody,  that  is,  but 
Verona  and  old  Madder — in  the  delight  and 
excitement  of  the  moment,  followed  Mr. 


ORPIMENT  &   GAMBOGE.  157 

Gamboge's  exhilarating  example.  Even  the 
staid  Mr.  Mangan  Brown,  even  the  decorous 
Miss  Caledonia,  hugged  young  Orpiment  as 
hard  as  ever  they  knew  how.  Verona  just 
sat  still  and  looked  at  him,  and  through  the 
tears  in  her  lovely  brown  eyes  there  shone 
the  light  of  a  great  joy  and  the  tenderness  of 
a  greater  love.  The  thought  that  she  also 
was  a  gainer  by  this  revolution  in  young 
Orpiment's  fortunes  never  once  crossed  her 
mind ;  all  that  she  thought  of  was  that  his 
life  of  toil  and  struggle  now  was  at  an 
end  ;  that  for  her  hard-working  hero  the 
chance  to  do  good  work  restfully  had  come 
at  last. 

(It  was  not  until  an  hour  or  so  later,  when 
they  were  walking  home  together,  that  an 
other  phase  of  the  matter  presented  itself  to 
Rose — she  was  a  great  hand  for  seeing  things 
in  original  lights.  "  Do  you  know,  Van," 
she  said  in  a  very  melancholy  voice,  "I  can't 
help  feeling  dreadfully  sorry  for  those  poor 
little  Protestant  half-orphans  ?  To  think  of 


1 58  COLOR  STUDIES. 

their  coming  so  near  to  being  heirs  and 
heiresses,  and  then  not  getting  a  single  bit 
of  their  fortunes  after  all  ! ") 

Old  Madder,  waiting  until  the  storm  had 
subsided  a  little,  and  standing,  as  it  were, 
afar  off,  did  what  he  could  to  throw  a  wet 
blanket  over  the  general  joy  by  saying 
mournfully  : 

"  I  hope  that  this  is  for  the  best,  Mr. 
Orpiment ;  but  I  fear  that  it  is  for  the  worst. 
Art  is  a  jealous  mistress,  and  Wealth  is  her 
sworn  foe.  You  have  my  sincere  pity,  sir  ; 
for  I  sincerely  believe  that  you  are  a  ruined 
man  ! " 

However,  old  Madder's  wet  blanket  was 
not  a  success,  for  his  genial  gloom  no  more 
could  stay  the  eruption  of  happiness  that 
had  begun  than  a  real  wet  blanket  could 
stay  an  eruption  of  Vesuvius.  Indeed,  no 
body  paid  the  least  attention  to  what  he  was 
saying,  for  just  as  he  began  his  cheerful  re 
marks  Mr.  Gamboge,  looking  rather  nervous, 
but  also  looking  very  much  resolved,  rose  to 


ORPIMENT  S"    GAMBOGE.  1 59 

his  feet  with  the  air  of  a  man  who  is  about 
to  make  a  speech.  Somehow  there  was  that 
in  his  manner  that  made  all  the  blood  in 
Miss  Caledonia's  body  rush  tumultuously  to 
her  heart.  Her  prophetic  soul  told  her  that 
it  was  coming  now  in  very  truth  ! 

"My  dear  Brown,"  said  Mr.  Gamboge, 
addressing  Mr.  Mangan,  "  there  is  a  matter 
very  near  to  my  heart,  concerning  which  I 
long  have  desired  to  speak  with  you.  Pos 
sibly  you  may  have  noticed  that  my  atten 
tions  to  your  sister,  Miss  Caledonia,  for  some 
time  past  have  been  rather  marked  ?  " 

"I  have  observed  the  phenomenon  to 
which  you  refer,"  answered  Mr.  Mangan,  for 
Mr.  Gamboge  had  spoken  interrogatively, 
and  had  paused  for  a  reply — "I  have  ob 
served  the  phenomenon  to  which  you  refer, 
my  dear  Gamboge,  pretty  constantly  for  the 
past  twenty-five  years." 

"  Precisely,"  said  Mr.  Gamboge,  in  a  tone 
indicating  that  he  felt  encouraged.  "You 
are  right,  my  dear  Brown,  as  you  always 


I6O  COLOR  STUDIES. 

are.  My  reckoning  of  the  number  of  years 
during  which  my  attentions  to  Miss  Caledo 
nia  have  been,  as  I  say,  rather  marked  cor 
responds  with  yours  exactly.  And  it  seems 
to  me,  my  dear  Brown,  that  this  period  has 
been  of  a  sufficient  extent  to  enable  us — that 
is,  to  enable  Miss  Caledonia  and  me — to  ac 
quire  such  ample  knowledge  of  each  other's 
tastes,  habits,  and  moral  characteristics  as 
will  justify  us  in  deciding  now  whether  or 
not  we  prudently  may  advance  to  a  yet 
closer  relationship." 

"  Looking  at  the  matter  dispassionately, 
my  dear  Gamboge,  I  should  say  that  it 
had." 

"  My  own  sentiments,  my  dear  Brown,  I 
may  say,  are,  and  for  some  years  past  have 
been,  unalterably  established.  I  revere  your 
sister,  Miss  Caledonia,  as  the  best  and  wisest 
of  women.  Under  the  existing  circum 
stances,  Mrs.  Brown  and  Miss  Verona  will 
pardon,  I  am  sure,  this  expression  of  what, 
under  any  other  circumstances,  might  be 


ORPIMENT   cr=    GAMBOGE.  l6l 

considered,  if  not  a  too  exalted,  at  least  a  too 
exclusive,  estimate  of  her  virtues." 

"  Certainly,"  said  Rose. 

"Of  course,"  said  Verona. 

"  Entertaining  these  unalterable  senti 
ments,  therefore,  my  dear  Brown,  the  strong 
est,  the  holiest  wish  of  my  life  is  to  make  her 
my  wife.  To  you,  as  her  natural  protector, 
to  her,  as  the  arbiter  of  her  own  destiny,  I 
now  appeal  —  on  this  auspicious  occasion 
when  my  young  friend  Orpiment  wears 
proudly  in  our  presence  his  tripartite  crown 
of  riches,  genius,  and  requited  love.  My 
dear  Brown,  may  I  have  her  ?  Miss  Cale 
donia,  will  you  be  mine  ?  " 

"  May  he  have  you,  Caledonia  ?  " 

"  Oh,  brother  !  how  can  you  ask  ?  It — it 
shall — be  just  as  you  say." 

"Then  I  say,  and  I  say  it  heartily,  my 
dear  Gamboge,  take  her — and  God  bless  you 
both ! "  and  Mr.  Mangan  Brown  led  the 
blushing  Miss  Caledonia  to  Mr.  Gamboge 
and  placed  her  hand  in  his. 


1 62  COLOR  STUDIES. 

And  so,  young  Orpiment  having  come 
into  his  fortune,  and  Mr.  Gamboge  having 
come  into  his  kingdom,  Mr.  Orpiment's 
lease  upon  posterity  was  cancelled,  and  he 
really  was  dead  at  last 


ROBERSON'S   MEDIUM. 

IT  was  Rowney  Mauve  who  described 
Roberson  as  being  like  one  of  his  own 
still-lifes  :  a  lot  of  queer  stuff  badly  com 
posed  and  out  of  drawing,  and  with  his  per 
spective  all  wrong.  And  I  regret  to  add 
that  it  was  Miss  Carmine,  when  she  heard 
this  description,  and  recognized  its  accu 
racy,  who  giggled.  To  say  that  Violet 
Carmine  was  a  pickle,  is  presenting  a  state 
ment  of  the  case  that  is  well  within  bounds. 
The  arrival  of  this  somewhat  erratic  young 
person  in  New  York  was  unexpected,  and 
had  a  rather  dramatic  touch  about  it.  On 
a  warm  evening  in  September,  while  yet 
the  dying  splendor  of  sunset  hung  redly 
over  the  Jersey  Highlands,  Mr.  Mangan 
Brown  was  sitting  in  a  wicker-chair  on  the 
veranda  of  his  own  exceedingly  comfort- 


1 64  COLOR   STUDIES. 

able  home  in  West  Eleventh  Street.  He 
was  in  the  perfectly  placid  frame  of  mind 
that  is  the  right  of  a  man  who  has  dined 
well,  and  who  is  smoking  a  good  cigar.  In 
another  wicker-chair,  similarly  placid,  simi 
larly  smoking  a  good  cigar,  sat  Vandyke 
Brown.  And  between  the  two  sat  Rose  : 
whose  nature  was  so  sweet  at  all  times,  that 
even  after-dinner  cigars  (supposing  that  she 
had  been  inclined  to  smoke  them,  and  she 
was  not)  could  not  have  made  it  one  particle 
sweeter.  These  three  people  were  very 
fond  of  each  other :  and  they  were  talking 
away  pleasantly  about  nothing  in  particular, 
and  were  gently  light-hearted,  and  were 
having  a  deal  of  enjoyment  in  a  quiet  way, 
as  they  sat  there,  beneath  their  own  vine 
and  ailanthus  tree,  in  the  light  of  the  mel 
low  after-glow  left  when  the  sun  went  down. 
Their  perfect  peacefulness  can  be  likened 
only  to  that  of  a  tropical  calm  :  and,  there 
fore,  the  unities  of  the  situation  were  pre 
served,  though  its  placidity  was  shattered, 
when  the  calm  was  broken  by  what  with  a 


ROBERSON'S  MEDIUM.  165 

tolerable  degree  of  accuracy  may  be  describ 
ed  as  a  tropical  storm. 

Out  of  a  coupe,  that  stopped  with  a 
flourish  in  front  of  Mr.  Mangan  Brown's 
gate,  descended  a  tall  young  woman,  with 
a  good  deal  of  color  in  her  cheeks  and  a 
good  deal  of  black  hair  and  a  pair  of  ex 
ceptionally  bright  black  eyes.  She  carried 
a  cage,  in  which  was  a  large  white  cockatoo, 
in  one  hand,  and  with  the  other  she  opened 
the  gate  in  a  decisive  sort  of  way,  as  though 
she  had  a  right  to  open  it ;  and  in  a  positive, 
proprietary  fashion  she  traversed  the  walk 
of  flags  to  the  veranda  steps.  Mr.  Mangan 
Brown  arose  from  his  wicker-chair — some 
what  reluctantly,  for  he  was  very  comfort 
able — and  advanced  to  meet  her. 

"You  must  be  my  cousin  Mangan.  I 
am  very  glad  to  see  you,  cousin  Mangan. 
Won't  you  take  the  parrot,  please  ?  "  and 
the  young  person  held  out  the  cage  in  her 
left  hand,  and  also  extended  her  right  hand 
with  the  obvious  purpose  of  having  it 
shaken. 


1 66  COLOR   STUDIES. 

Mr.  Mangan  Brown  did  his  best  to  dis 
charge  simultaneously  the  two  duties  thus 
demanded  of  him,  but  as  this  involved  cross 
ing  his  hands  in  an  awkward  sort  of  way, 
the  result  was  not  altogether  graceful.  "  My 
name  is  Mangan  Brown,"  he  said  diplo 
matically. 

"  Of  course  it  is,"  answered  the  young 
woman  with  a  smile  that  showed  what  a 
charming  mouth  and  what  prodigiously  fine 
teeth  she  had.  "  And  my  name  is  Violet  Car 
mine.  Don't  you  think  Violet  rather  a  pretty 
name,  cousin  Mangan  ?  My  mamma  gave  it 
to  me  out  of  a  novel.  And  don't  you  think 
that  I  speak  very  good  English  ?  I  haven't 
a  strawberry  mark  on  my  left  arm,  nor  any 
thing  like  that,  you  know,  to  prove  it,  but  I 
am  your  cousin,  your  second  cousin  once  re 
moved,  just  as  much  as  though  I  had  straw 
berry  marks  all  over  me.  Don't  look  at  me 
in  that  doubtful  sort  of  way,  cousin  Man 
gan,  it  makes  me  feel  quite  uncomfortable. 
I'm  sure  if  I  am  willing  to  believe  in  you, 
you  might  be  willing  to  believe  in  me.  But 


ROBERSON'S  MEDIUM.  l6/ 

here's  papa's  letter  ;  just  read  it,  and  then 
you'll  believe  in  me,  I'm  sure." 

Mr.  Mangan  Brown,  who  was  rather  dazed 
by  this  assault,  took  the  letter  and  began  to 
read  it. 

"You're  cousins,  too,  I  suppose,"  said 
Miss  Carmine,  turning  to  Van  and  Rose. 
"  Long  cousin,  won't  you  please  go  out  to 
the  carriage  and  pay  the  man  and  bring  in 
my  things  ?  "  As  to  you,  you  dear,  little, 
blue-eyed  cousin,  I  think  that  you  are  simply 
delightful,  and  I  know  that  I  shall  love  you 
with  all  my  heart,  and  I  must  kiss  you  right 
away."  And  this  Miss  Carmine  did  with  a 
fervor  that  was  quite  in  keeping  with  the 
energy  of  her  manner  and  words. 

"I  am  very  glad  to  see  you,  my  dear," 
said  Mr.  Mangan  Brown,  who  had  finished 
the  letter.  "This  is  my  nephew,  Vandyke 
Brown,  and  this  is  his  wife,  my  niece  Rose, 
and  I  am  sure  that  we  all  will  do  our  best  to 
make  you  comfortable  while  you  stay  with 
us.  If — if  I  was  not  quite  so  cordial  as  I 
might  have  been  just  now,  you  must  under- 


1 68  COLOR   STUDIES. 

stand  that  your  sudden  arrival  rather  took  me 
by  surprise,  you  know.  Rose,  take  your  cou 
sin  Violet  up  to  Caledonia's  room,  and  make 
her  comfortable.  Van  will  carry  up  her  bag. " 

"And,  Rose  dear,"  said  Miss  Carmine, 
precisely  imitating  Mr.  Mangan's  tone  and 
manner,  "take  your  cousin  Violet  to  where 
she  will  get  something  to  eat,  please.  I 
assure  you  that  she  is  almost  starving."  In 
her  own  proper  voice  she  continued  :  "  You 
sweet,  little,  blue-eyed  thing,  it  was  worth 
while  coming  all  the  way  from  Mexico  just 
to  have  a  sight  of  you.  You  are  a  lucky 
fellow,  Van.  I  don't  believe  you  half  de 
serve  her.  Tell  the  truth  now,  do  you  ? 
But,  of  course,  he'll  say  yes,  Rose,  so  we 
need  not  wait  for  his  answer.  Take  me 
along,  dear,  and  let  me  wash  myself  and  get 
some  food.  You  really  have  no  idea  how 
hungry  I  am."  And  Miss  Carmine,  with 
her  arm  around  Rose's  waist,  vanished 
through  the  open  door. 

"  Cool  sort  of  hand,  this  cousin  of  ours," 
said  Van  to  Mr.  Mangan,  when  the  bag  and 


ROBERSON'S  MEDIUM.  169 

the  parrot  had  been  carried  up-stairs  and 
Van  had  come  down  again  to  the  veranda. 
"  And  who  is  she,  anyway?  She  really  is 
our  cousin,  I  suppose." 

"  Yes,"  said  Mr.  Mangan,  in  a  tone  that 
did  its  best  to  be  cheerful,  "  there  is  no 
doubt  about  the  relationship ;  though  it 
certainly  is  rather  a  distant  one.  Her  great 
grandfather  Carmine  married  my  grand 
father's,  Bone  Brown's,  sister.  Carmine  had 
a  cochineal  plantation  in  San  Domingo,  and 
he  was  killed  in  the  time  of  the  insurrection. 
In  fact,  his  slaves  burnt  him.  His  son  got 
away  and  went  over  to  Mexico,  and  the 
family  has  been  there  ever  since.  The  pres 
ent  Carmine,  Violet's  father,  has  a  big 
hacienda  somewhere  or  another.  We  have 
a  consignment  of  hides  from  him  every  year, 
and  that's  pretty  much  all  that  I  know  about 
him;  except  that  in  one  of  his  letters  he 
once  said  that  he  had  married  an  American, 
and  was  bringing  up  his  daughters — I  don't 
think  he  has  any  sons — on  the  American 
plan  ;  teaching  them  to  be  self-confident, 


I7O  COLOR   STUDIES. 

and  that  sort  of  thing.  And,"  continued 
Mr.  Mangan  reflectively,  "  if  this  young  per 
son  is  a  fair  specimen  of  the  family,  I  should 
say  that  his  educational  methods  had  been, 
ah,  quite  a  remarkable  success." 

"  Yes,"  answered  Van,  dryly,  "  I  think 
they  have.  But  to  what  fortunate  circum 
stance  do  we  owe  the  pleasure  of  her  descent 
upon  our  inoffensive  household  ?  " 

"  Don't  be  inhospitable,  Van.  I'm  sure 
she's  a  nice  girl,  though  she  certainly  is  a 
little — a  little  odd,  perhaps.  Why,  her 
father  writes  that  he  has  sent  her  up  to  see 
something  of  American  life  under  my  care — 
he  seems  to  take  it  for  granted  that  I  am 
married  and  have  a  lot  of  daughters — and 
when  her  visit  is  ended  (he  suggests  that  she 
shall  stay  with  us  for  a  year,  or  for  six  months 
at  the  least),  he  wants  me  to  come  down  to 
his  place  with  all  my  family  and  stay  a  year 
or  so  with  him.  It's  Mexican,  I  suppose, 
visiting  in  this  fashion.  I  always  have  un 
derstood  that  they  did  not  make  much  ac 
count  of  time  down  there." 


ROBERSON'S  MEDIUM.  I/I 

"But  how  on  earth  did  she  get  here? 
Surely  she  did  not  come  up  alone?  " 

"  Really,  Van,"  said  Violet,  stepping  out 
upon  the  veranda  briskly,  just  in  time  to 
hear  these  questions.  "  Really,  Van,  you 
don't  look  stupid,  but  I  think  you  must  be. 
I  came,  sir,  in  a  delightful  Pullman  car,  and 
the  Sefior  and  Seftora  Moreno — I  wonder  if 
they  can  be  distant  relations  of  yours,  cousin 
Mangan  ?  It's  the  same  name,  you  know — 
and  all  the  thirteen,  no,  the  fourteen,  little 
Morenos  and  their  nurses  and  servants 
brought  me.  We  just  filled  the  car  nicely. 
And  oh  !  we  did  have  such  a  good  time  ! 
Did  you  ever  go  anywhere  in  a  Pullman  car, 
cousin  Mangan  ?  If  you  didn't,  you  don't 
know  at  all  how  nice  it  is.  Not  a  bit  like 
the  horrid  diligencia,  you  know.  And  we 
did  have  such  fun  !  I  had  my  dear  Pablo — 
he's  the  parrot,  you  know  ;  and  the  Seflora 
Moreno  had  a — I  don't  know  what  the  Eng 
lish  name  is  :  it's  a  bird  that  whistles  and 
sings  wonderfully ;  and  little  Josefita  had  a 
yellow  kitten ;  and  at  Chihuahua  each  of  the 


172  COLOR  STUDIES. 

seven  boys  bought  a  dear  little  dog.  When 
Pablo  was  screaming,  and  the  bird  was 
whistling,  and  the  kitten  was  fighting  with 
all  the  little  dogs  at  once,  really,  we  could 
not  hear  ourselves  speak.  It  was  so  funny 
that  we  were  laughing  every  bit  of  the 
time. 

"And,  cousin  Mangan,  Seflor  Moreno 
wanted  to  come  here  with  me  and  give  me 
into  your  hands.  But  I  wouldn't  let  him. 
They  all  stopped  at  a  little  hotel  quite  near 
here,  where  Spanish  is  spoken — for  Seflor 
Moreno  does  not  speak  a  word  of  English, 
and  I  have  done  all  the  talking  for  him  ever 
since  we  left  Paso  del  Norte  ;  you  have  no 
idea  what  nice  things  the  conductors  and 
people  have  said  to  me  about  my  English — 
and  I  begged  Seflor  Moreno  to  let  me  come 
in  the  carriage  by  myself.  I  wanted  to  sur 
prise  you,  you  see.  Have  I  surprised  you, 
cousin  Mangan  ?  Tell  me  truly,  have  I  !  " 

And  Mr.  Mangan  Brown  answered,  in  a 
tone  that  Miss  Carmine,  possibly,  thought 
unnecessarily  serious :  "  Yes,  my  dear,  1 


ROBERSOA"S  MEDIUM.  1/3 

believe  that  I  may  say  with  perfect  truth — - 
you  have  !  " 

NATURALLY,  so  quiet  a  household  as  was 
this  of  Mr.  Mangan  Brown's  was  a  good  deal 
upset  by  having  interjected  into  it  such  a 
whirlwind  of  a  young  woman  as  was  this 
Miss  Violet  Carmine.  The  household  was 
quieter  than  ever,  of  course,  now  that  Miss 
Caledonia  and  Verona  were  married  off. 
The  wedding,  by  the  way,  was  a  prodigious 
success.  Mr.  Mangan  Brown  gave  away  the 
brides,  successively,  with  a  defiant  one-down- 
and-t'-other-come-on  air  that  was  tremen 
dously  effective  ;  and  young  Orpiment  went 
through  with  the  ceremony  gallantly;  and 
Mr.  Gamboge,  who  was  badly  scared,  most 
certainly  would  have  said  "  Under  these  cir 
cumstances  Mr.  Orpiment  would  have  said 
'  I  will,' "  if  Miss  Caledonia,  being  on  the 
lookout  for  precisely  this  emergency,  had 
not  pinched  him  ;  and  Miss  Caledonia  looked 
so  young  and  so  pretty  in  her  gray  silk  and 
new  back  hair  that  nobody  ever  would  have 


1/4  COLOR   STUDIES. 

thought  her  a  day  over  forty ;  and  Verona 
just  looked  like  the  lovable,  dignified  angel 
that  she  was. 

But  while  Miss  Carmine  found  no  difficulty 
in  filling  with  her  belongings  the  two  rooms 
lately  occupied  by  Miss  Caledonia  and  Ve 
rona,  it  cannot  be  said  that  she  herself  filled 
precisely  the  place  in  the  household  which 
had  been  filled  by  these  its  departed  mem 
bers.  Mr.  Mangan  tried  loyally  to  make 
the  best  of  his  Mexican  kinswoman,  but  even 
he  found  her  at  times — as  he  deprecatingly 
admitted  to  Rose — a  little  wearing.  He 
tried  to  convince  himself  that  Pablo's  violent 
remarks,  in  the  Spanish  tongue,  at  atrocious 
hours  of  the  morning,  did  not  disturb  him  ; 
he  tried  to  believe  that  he  admired  the 
spirited  playfulness  of  the  seven  little  Moreno 
boys  when  they  came  to  visit  their  country 
woman,  and  with  their  countrywoman  and 
their  seven  Chihuahua  dogs  raced  in  and  out 
of  the  parlor  windows  and  up  and  down  the 
veranda  steps  and  all  over  the  flower  beds 
in  the  front  garden  ;  and  he  tried  to  think 


ROBERSON'S  MEDIUM.  175 

that  his  kinswoman's  habitual  tendency  to 
ward  the  violent  and  the  unexpected  did  not 
annoy  him.  But  it  is  certain  that  his  efforts 
in  these,  and  in  various  other,  directions 
were  not  at  all  times  successful.  And  yet 
when  Violet  was  not  doing  something  out 
rageous — which,  to  be  sure,  was  not  often — 
she  was  such  a  frank,  affectionate  body  that 
not  to  love  her  was  quite  impossible. 

"  It's  not  herself,  it's  her  extraordinary 
education  that's  at  fault,  Van,"  Mr.  Mangan 
declared  in  extenuation  of  her  expedition 
with  Rowney  Mauve  and  without  a  chaperon 
to  Coney  Island.  "  She's  a  good  little  thing, 
but  what  with  her  queer  life  on  her  father's 
hacienda,  and  the  queer  doctrines  which  her 
father  and  mother  have  got  into  her  head, 
it's  no  wonder  that  her  notions  of  propriety 
are  a  little  eccentric." 

Being  lectured  about  her  Coney  Island 
trip,  Violet  manifested  only  astonishment. 
"Why,  cousin  Mangan,  I  thought  that  here 
in  America  girls  could  do  just  as  they  pleased. 
That's  what  mamma  has  always  told  me. 


COLOR  STUDIES. 

I'm  sure  that  she  did  what  she  pleased  when 
she  was  a  girl.  And  mamma  was  very  care 
fully  brought  up  and  moved  in  very  elegant 
society,  you  know.  Grandpapa,  you  know, 
sold  outfits  at  Fort  Leavenworth  to  people 
going  across  the  Plains  ;  and  he  did  a  splen 
did  business,  too,  in  the  Santa  Fe  trade. 
That  was  before  the  railroad,  of  course. 
Were  you  ever  out  along  the  Santa  F6  trail 
before  the  Atchison  road  was  built,  cousin 
Mangan  ?  It  was  a  splendid  trip  to  make. 
Mamma  came  out  that  way  to  Santa  F6  in 
1860  with  grandpapa.  They  had  a  lovely 
time  ;  just  as  full  of  excitement  as  possible. 
They  had  one  fight  with  Indians  before  they 
were  fifty  miles  out  from  Council  Grove,  and 
another  just  as  they  struck  off  from  the 
Arkansas,  and  another  at  the  crossing  of  the 
Cimarron  ;  and  they  were  caught  in  a  tre 
mendous  snow-storm  in  the  Raton  Moun 
tains  ;  and  in  fording  the  Pecos  they  lost  a 
wagon  and  its  team  of  six  mules — and  grand 
papa  was  so  angry  with  the  head  teamster 
for  his  carelessness,  that  he  just  picked  him 


ROBERSON'S  MEDIUM.  1 77 

up  bodily  and  chucked  him  in  after  the  mules, 
and  then  shot  at  him  when  he  tried  to  swim 
ashore  ;  and  mamma  used  to  say  in  her  droll 
way  that  they  never  knew  whether  that  team 
ster  died  of  drowning  or  shooting. 

"  It  was  in  Santa  Fe,  you  know,  that  papa 
met  mamma  arid  fell  in  love  with  her.  It 
was  very  romantic.  Mamma  had  made  a 
bet  with  one  of  the  officers  of  the  garrison 
that  she  could  ride  a  mustang  that  never  had 
been  broken ;  and  it  ran  away  with  her — 
which  mamma  did  not  mind  a  bit,  of  course 
— and  just  as  she  was  waving  her  handker 
chief  to  the  men  to  show  that  she  was  win 
ning  the  bet  she  found  that  the  mustang  was 
heading  right  for  the  edge  of  the  bluff — she 
was  riding  on  the  mesa  close  by  old  Fort 
Marcy — and  as  she  couldn't  turn  it  she  knew 
that  they  both  were  going  to  have  their 
necks  broken.  And  then  papa,  who  was 
with  the  officers,  saw  her  danger  and  galloped 
up  just  in  time  to  lift  her  right  out  of  the 
saddle  while  both  horses  were  running  as 
hard  as  ever  they  could  run ;  and  papa  man- 


1/8  COLOR   STUDIES. 

aged  to  turn  his  horse  on  the  very  edge  of 
the  bluff,  and  the  mustang  went  over  the 
bluff  and  was  done  for.  Of  course,  after  he 
had  saved  her  life  this  way,  and  after  he  had 
fought  a  duel  with  the  officer  that  mamma 
bet  with,  because  he  said  that  mamma  had 
not  won  the  bet  after  all,  mamma  had  to 
marry  him.  They  had  a  lovely  wedding  in 
the  old  church  of  San  Miguel,  and  all  the 
officers  were  there — the  officer  whom  papa 
wounded  was  ever  so  nice  about  it  and  came 
on  crutches — and  all  the  best  people  of  the 
town  were  there  too,  and  they  had  a  splendid 
banquet  at  the  Fonda  afterward.  You  see, 
there  was  no  trouble  about  their  being  mar 
ried,  for  mamma  was  born  in  the  Church. 
Her  mother's  folks,  the  Smalts,  were  German 
Catholics,  and,  of  course,  her  father  was  a 
Catholic  too,  for  he  was  Don  Patricio  O'Jara, 
you  know.  The  O'Jaras  are  a  very  noble 
family,  cousin  Mangan  ;  some  of  them  once 
were  kings,  mamma  says. 

"And   because   she   belonged   to  such  a 
grand  family,  and  because  grandpapa  was  so 


ROBERSOWS  MEDIUM.  1/9 

rich,  mamma  moved  in  the  very  highest  cir 
cles  of  Leavenworth  society,  you  see  ;  and  I 
am  sure  that  she  went  around  with  young 
gentlemen  just  as  much  as  she  pleased,  for 
she  has  told  me  so,  often.  So  what  was  the 
harm  in  my  going  to  Coney  Island  with  Mr. 
Mauve,  cousin  Mangan  ?  And  we  did  have 
such  a  lovely  time  !  Now  you  aren't  angry 
with  me,  are  you  ?  Then  kiss  me,  and  say 
you're  not — so.  That's  a  dear.  And  now 
we  never  will  say  another  word  about  the 
horrid  place  again." 

Rowney  Mauve,  of  course,  knew  that  the 
Coney  Island  expedition  was  all  wrong  ;  and 
he  had  the  grace  to  profess  to  be  sorry  when 
Van  took  it  on  himself  to  give  him  a  lecture 
about  it.  Rowney  was  a  rather  weak  vessel, 
morally — as  he  admitted  with  a  charming 
frankness  when  anybody  spoke  to  him  on  the 
subject — and  he  never  made  any  very  per 
ceptible  effort  to  strengthen  himself.  It 
wasn't  his  ambition  to  be  a  whited  sepulchre, 
he  would  say,  with  an  air  of  cheerful  resigna 
tion  that,  in  its  way,  was  quite  irresistible. 


180  COLOR  STUDIES. 

But,  after  all,  he  was  not  half  a  bad  fellow  at 
bottom.  His  besetting  sin  was  his  laziness. 
Unless  he  had  some  scheme  of  pleasure  on 
hand — when  he  would  rouse  up  and  work 
like  a  beaver — he  was  about  as  lazy  as  a  man 
well  could  be.  Had  he  ever  buckled  down 
to  work,  there  was  the  making  of  a  first-rate 
painter  in  him.  Two  or  three  landscapes 
which,  by  some  extraordinary  chance,  he  had 
finished,  had  been  quite  the  talk  of  the  town 
and  had  sold  promptly.  But  there  he  stopped. 
"  Of  course,  old  man,  I  know  that  I 
could  sell  a  lot  of  pictures  if  I  painted  them," 
he  would  say  when  Van  upbraided  him  for 
his  laziness.  "But  what's  the  good  of  it? 
I  don't  need  the  money.  I've  got  more 
now  than  I  know  what  to  do  with."  And 
then  he  would  add,  in  the  high  moral  key 
and  with  the  twinkle  in  the  corners  of  his 
blue  eyes  that  always  came  there  in  nice  ap 
preciation  of  his  own  humbug,  "And  I 
don't  think  it's  right,  Van,  you  know,  to  sell 
my  pictures  and  so  take  the  bread  out  of  the 
mouths  of  the  men  who  need  it.  No,  I  pre 


ROBEKSON'S  MEDIUM.  l8l 

fer  to  be  as  that  cheerful  old  father-in-law  of 
yours  once  said  to  me  when  he  sent  his 
'  Baby's  First  Steps  '  to  the  Young  Genius's 
exhibition,  and  the  Young  Geniuses  cracked 
it  right  back  at  him — '  a  willing  sacrifice  for 
Art's  great  sake  to  other  men's  success.' 
That's  a  noble  sentiment,  isn't  it  ?  And  now, 
what  do  you  say  to  joining  me  on  board  the 
yacht  to-morrow  and  sliding  down  to  Saint 
Augustine  for  a  week  or  two  ?  There  are 
some  types  among  those  stunning  Minorcan 
girls  down  there  that  will  make  you  a  bigger 
swell  in  art  than  ever  if  you  will  catch  them 
in  time  for  the  spring  exhibition."  The  fact 
of  the  matter  was  that  Rowney  Mauve,  in 
the  matter  of  laziness,  simply  was  incorrigible. 
In  connection  with  Miss  Carmine,  how 
ever,  not  the  least  trace  of  Rowney's  lazi 
ness  was  perceptible.  In  her  service  he  was 
all  energy.  Why,  he  even  went  so  far  as  to 
finish  one  of  his  numerous  unfinished  pict 
ures  because,  when  Van  and  Rose  brought 
her  to  his  studio  one  day,  she  took  a  fancy 
to  it  and  told  him  that  she  would  like  to  see 


1 82  COLOR  STUDIES. 

it  completed !  Among  the  people  who 
knew  him  this  outburst  of  zealous  labor  was 
regarded  as  being  little  short  of  miraculous  ; 
and  Rowney,  who  was  rather  given  to  con 
templative  consideration  of  his  own  actions, 
could  not  help  at  first  feeling  that  way  about 
it  himself.  As  the  result  of  careful  self- 
analysis,  however,  he  came  to  the  conclusion 
that  his  sudden  access  of  energy  was  not 
the  result  of  a  miracle,  but  of  love  ! 

Being  really  in  love  was  a  new  experience 
for  Rowney,  and  he  did  not  quite  under 
stand  it.  At  one  time  or  another  he  had 
been  spoons  on  lots  of  girls ;  but  being 
spoons  and  being  genuinely  in  love,  as  he 
now  perceived,  were  conditions  of  the  heart 
which  have  no  relation  to  each  other  what 
ever.  Looking  at  his  case  critically,  he  was 
satisfied  that  his  decline  and  fall  had  begun 
on  that  October  day,  now  four  months  past, 
when  he  and  Miss  Carmine  had  defied  the 
proprieties  by  going  down  together  to  Coney 
Island.  They  had  seen  the  races,  which 
Violet  enjoyed  immensely,  and  had  had  a 


ROBERSOWS  MEDIUM.  183 

capital  little  lunch  ;  and  after  the  lunch  they 
had  taken  a  long  walk  on  the  deserted  beach 
toward  Far  Rockaway.  Rowney  knew  all 
the  while,  of  course,  that  they  hadn't  any 
business  whatever  to  be  off  alone  on  a  cruise 
of  this  nature  ;  and  his  knowledge,  I  am 
sorry  to  say,  made  him  regard  the  cruise  in 
the  light  of  a  lark  of  quite  exceptional  jollity. 
Violet,  not  having  the  faintest  suspicion  that 
she  was  anything  less  than  a  model  of 
American  decorum,  simply  was  in  raptures. 
With  a  delightful  frankness  she  repeatedly 
told  Rowney  what  a  good  time  she  was 
having ;  and  how  like  it  was  to  the  good 
times  that  her  mother,  the  scion  of  the  royal 
house  of  O'Jara,  used  to  have  in  company 
with  the  young  Chesterfields  of  Fort  Leaven- 
worth  society. 

Altogether,  it  had  been  an  original  sort  of 
an  experience  for  Rowney ;  and  for  this 
easy-going  young  gentleman  original  ex 
periences  had  an  exceeding  great  charm. 
Looking  back,  therefore,  in  the  light  of  sub 
sequent  events,  upon  that  particular  day,  he 


1 84  COLOR   STUDIES. 

decided  that  it  was  the  Coney  Island  expe 
dition  that  had  sapped  the  foundations  of 
his  previously  well-fortified  heart.  Anyhow, 
without  regard  to  when  it  began,  he  felt 
satisfied  in  his  own  mind  that  he  was  in  love 
now,  right  over  head  and  ears. 

Roberson,  whose  studio  was  just  across 
the  passage,  happened  to  drop  in  upon  him 
at  the  very  moment  that  he  had  arrived  at 
this,  to  him,  astonishing  conclusion.  Rober 
son  was  not  a  very  promising  sort  of  a  speci 
men  of  a  confidant,  but  Rowney  was  so  full 
of  his  discovery  that  before  he  could  check 
himself  he  had  blurted  out :  "  Old  man,  I've 
been  and  gone  and  done  it !  I'm  in  love  !  " 

"No!  Are  you  though,  really?"  said 
Roberson,  in  his  funny  little  mincing  way. 
"Why,  that's  very  interesting.  And  who 
are  you  in  love  with  ?  " 

By  this  time  Rowney  had  perceived  the 
absurdity,  not  to  say  the  stupidity,  of  taking 
Roberson  into  his  confidence.  So  he  laughed 
and  answered : 

"  With  my  own  laziness,  of  course.     I've 


ROBERSON'S  MEDIUM.  185 

been  thinking  what  a  precious  ass  I  have 
been  making  of  myself  in  working  over  this 
confounded  picture.  Now  that  it's  finished, 
I  don't  know  what  to  do  with  it,  and  I've 
wasted  a  solid  month  that  I  might  have  de 
voted  to  scientific  loafing.  And  it's  because 
I  see  my  folly  and  am  determined  to  be  wise 
again  that  I've  fallen  in  love  with  my  own 
laziness  once  more." 

"  Oh  !  "  said  Roberson,  in  a  tone  of  dis 
appointment,  "  I  thought  that  you  were  in 
earnest ;  and  I  was  ever  so  glad,  for  I  really 
am  in  love,  Rowney,  in  love  awfully  !  And — 
and  I  thought  that  if  you  were  in  love  too, 
you'd  like  to  hear  about  it.  Wouldn't  you 
like  to  hear  about  it  anyway  ?  " 

"  Of  course  I  would,  old  man.  Just  wait 
till  I  fill  my  pipe  ;  I  can  be  more  sympa 
thetic  over  a  pipe,  you  know.  Now  crack 
away,"  Rowney  continued,  as  he  settled 
himself  comfortably  in  a  big  chair  and  pulled 
hard  at  his  pipe  to  give  it  a  good  start. 
"  Now  crack  away,  my  stricken  deer. 
Though  the  herd  all  forsake  thee,  thy  home 


1 86  COLOR   STUDIES. 

is  still  here,  you  know.  Rest  on  this  bosom 
and  tell  your  tale  of  sorrow.  Are  you  very 
hard  hit,  Roberson  ?  " 

"  Oh !  I  am,  indeed,  I  am,"  groaned 
Roberson.  "  You  see,  its — its  this  queer 
Mexican  girl  who  is  staying  with  the 
Browns " 

"  The  dickens  it  is  !  "  exclaimed  Rowney, 
suddenly  sitting  bolt  upright  in  his  chair, 
and  glaring  at  Roberson  through  the  smoke 
as  though  he  wanted  to  glare  his  head  off. 

"  Don't,  please  don't  look  at  me  like  that, 
Mauve.  Surely  there's  no  reason  why  you 
should  be  angry  with  me." 

"N — no,"  answered  Rowney  slowly,  "I 
don't  think  there  is."  And  then,  as  he  sank 
back  in  the  chair,  and  his  ferocious  expres 
sion  gave  place  to  a  quiet  grin,  he  added 
briskly  :  "  No,  I'm  sure  there's  not.  I  was 
surprised,  that's  all.  I  always  look  like  that 
when  I'm  a  good  deal  surprised." 

"  Well,  I  must  say  I'm  glad  I  don't  sur 
prise  you  often.  You  have  no  idea  how 
savage  you  looked,  old  fellow.  I'm  not 


ROBERSON' S  MEDIUM.  l8/ 

easily  frightened,  you  know,"  and  the  little 
man  put  on  a  look  of  inoffensive  defiance  as 
he  spoke  that  gave  him  something  the  air  of 
a  valorously -disposed  lamb ;  "but  I  do  as 
sure  you  that  the  way  you  looked  at  me 
gave  me  quite  a  turn.  Just  let  me  know, 
won't  you,  when  you  feel  yourself  beginning 
to  be  surprised  the  next  time,  so  that  I  may 
be  prepared  for  it  ?  " 

"I'll  do  better  than  that,  Roberson ;  I'll 
promise  not  to  let  you  surprise  me.  And 
now  go  ahead  with  the  love  story,  old  man ; 
I'm  quite  ashamed  of  myself  for  having  in 
terrupted  you  so  rudely." 

"  There  isn't  any  more  of  it  to  tell,"  said 
Roberson,  dolefully.  "  I  wish  there  was." 

"  Nonsense,  man  !  Why,  that  isn't  any 
love  story  at  all.  There  must  be  more  of  it. 
What  have  you  said  to  her  ?  What  has  she 
said  to  you  ?  " 

"  Nothing,"  answered  Roberson,  dismally. 
"  That's  just  it,  you  see.  That's  what  makes 
me  so  low  in  my  mind  over  it.  I  haven't 
said  anything,  and  she  hasn't  said  anything. 


1 88  COLOR   STUDIES. 

If  either  of  us  had  said  anything  I'd  know 
better  where  I  was.  But  neither  of  us  has 
spoken,  and  so  I  don't  know  where  I  am  at 
all — not  the  least  bit  in  the  world."  Rober- 
son  hid  his  face  in  his  hands  and  groaned. 

Presently  he  went  on  again:  "I  have 
made  efforts  to  speak,  Rowney ;  I've  made 
repeated  efforts — but,  somehow,  they've 
none  of  them  come  to  anything.  Indeed, 
I've  never  had  but  one  fair  chance,  for  every 
time,  just  as  I've  got  to  the  point  when  I 
was  ready  to  say  something,  something  that 
really  would  have  a  meaning  to  it,  you  know, 
something  has  happened  to  stop  me." 

"  And  what  stopped  you  that  one  time 
when  something  didn't  happen  to  stop  you  ?  " 

"You  mustn't  think  me  weak,  Rowney, 
but — but  the  truth  is  that  I  was  so  dreadfully 
upset  that  what  I  wanted  to  say  wouldn't 
come  at  all.  We  were  sitting  on  the  veran 
da,  the  moon  was  shining,  and  all  the  rest 
were  inside  listening  to  Mrs.  Orpiment  sing 
ing.  I  couldn't  have  had  a  better  chance, 
you  see." 


ROBERSOWS  MEDIUM.  1 89 

"  I  should  think  not !  "  growled  Rowney. 

"  But  the  more  I  tried  the  more  the  right 
words  wouldn't  come.  And  what  do  you 
suppose  I  ended  by  asking  her  ?  " 

"  If  she  didn't  think  you  were  an  infernal 
idiot.  And  of  course  she  said  yes." 

"  Don't  be  hard  on  me,  Mauve.  You've 
no  idea  what  a  trying  situation  it  was.  No, 
what  I  ended  by  asking  her  was,  what  was 
the  food  most  commonly  eaten  in  Mexico. 
I  didn't  say  it  in  just  a  commonplace  way, 
you  know.  I  threw  a  great  deal  of  feeling 
into  my  voice,  and  I  looked  at  her  beseech 
ingly.  And — and  I  think,  old  fellow,  that 
she  knew  that  my  words  meant  more  than 
they  expressed,  for  there  was  a  strange 
tremor  in  her  own  voice  as  she  answered, 
'  tortillas  and  frijoles  ; '  and  as  soon  as  she 
had  uttered  those  brief  words  she  got  up  and 
rushed  into  the  parlor,  as  though  something 
were  after  her.  This  was  a  very  extraordi 
nary  thing  for  her  to  do,  and  it  shows  to  my 
mind  that  she  did  not  dare  to  trust  herself 
with  me  for  a  moment  longer.  And  I  am 


190  COLOR   STUDIES. 

the  more  confirmed  in  this  opinion  by  the 
fact  that  when  I  followed  her,  in  a  minute  or 
two,  for  at  first  I  was  too  much  surprised  by 
her  sudden  departure  to  stir,  I  found  her 
leaning  upon  Mrs.  Brown's  shoulder  in  hys 
terics — laughing  and  crying  all  at  once,  I 
solemnly  assure  you.  Don't  you  think  there's 
hope  for  me  in  all  this,  Rowney  ?  Don't 
you  think  that  her  saying  '  tortillas  and  fri- 
joles '  in  that  strange,  tremulous  tone,  and 
then  having  hysterics  after  it,  meant  more 
than  I  could  understand  at  the  time  ?  " 

"  Yes,"  answered  Rowney,  decidedly,  "  I 
think  it  did.  To  be  quite  frank  with  you, 
Roberson,!  don't  think  that  you  fully  under 
stand  just  what  she  meant  even  yet." 

"  Oh,  thank  you,  thank  you,  Mauve.  You 
don't  know  how  much  good  you  are  doing 
me  by  your  kind,  encouraging  words." 

Rowney's  conscience  did  prick  him  a  little 
when  Roberson  said  this — but  only  a  little, 
for  his  resentment  of  what  he  styled  in  his 
own  mind  Roberson's  confounded  impu 
dence  in  venturing  to  make  love  to  Violet, 


ROBERSONyS  MEDIUM.  IQI 

was  too  keen  for  him  to  give  the  unlucky 
little  man  mercy  in  the  least  degree. 

For  a  while  there  was  silence.  Mauve 
pulled  away  steadily  at  his  pipe,  and  Rober- 
son  stared  gloomily  into  vacancy  and  gently 
wrung  his  hands.  At  last  he  spoke  : 

"  Rowney,  do  you  believe  that  there  is 
anything  in — in  spiritualism  ?" 

"There's  dollars  in  it,  if  you  only  can 
make  it  go.  Why  ?  Are  you  thinking  of 
taking  it  up  as  a  profession  ?  It's  rather  a 
shady  profession,  of  course  ;  but  you  ought 
to  make  more  out  of  it  than  you  do  out  of 
your  still-life  stuff.  The  properties  wouldn't 
take  much  capital  to  start  with.  Two  rooms 
in  an  out-of-the-way  street — Grove  Street 
would  do  nicely  ;  some  curtains,  and  a 
table  ;  that's  all  you'd  need  to  begin  with. 
If  things  went  along  well,  and  you  found 
that  there  was  a  paying  demand  for  materi 
alizations,  then  you'd  have  to  get  some  cos 
tumes.  And  what  awfully  good  fun  it  will 
be  !  "  Rowney  continued,  as  he  warmed  up 
to  the  subject.  "  Do  you  know,  I've  a  great 


192  COLOR  STUDIES. 

mind  to  go  in  with  you.  It  will  be  no  end 
of  a  lark." 

"  Oh,  you  don't  understand  me  at  all, 
Mauve.  I  don't  want  to  be  a  medium. 
What  I  mean  is,  do  you  believe  in  the 
reality  of  spiritual  manifestations  ?  " 

Rowney  was  about  to  say  ' '  spiritual 
fiddle-sticks,"  but  checked  himself,  and 
answered  diplomatically  :  "  Well,  you  see, 
I  haven't  much  experience  in  that  line,  and 
so  my  opinion  isn't  especially  valuable. 
Have  you  ever  tackled  the  spirits  yourself, 
Roberson  ?  " 

"  Ye-es,"  answered  Roberson,  hesitat 
ingly,  "  I  have." 

"  And  what  sort  of  a  time  did  you  have 
with  them  ?  " 

"  Well — but  you  won't  laugh  at  me,  will 
you,  Mauve  ?  I'm  really  in  earnest,  you 
know,  and  if  you  only  want  to  make  a  joke 
of  it,  I  won't  go  on." 

"  Don't  you  see  how  serious  I  am  ?  " 

"  Well,  some  of  the  spirits  did  tell  me 
very  wonderful  things.  Do  you  remember 


ROBERSON'S  MEDIUM.  193 

that  picture  that  I  painted  a  year  ago  last 
winter — peas,  and  asparagus,  and  Bermuda 
potatoes,  and  strawberries,  grouped  around 
a  shad — that  I  called  '  The  First  Breath  of 
Spring  ? '  I  don't  think  that  you  can  have 
forgotten  it,  for  it  was  a  noble  work.  Well, 
the  spirit  of  Jan  Weenix  told  me  to  paint 
that  picture,  and  promised  me  that  it  would 
bring  me  fortune  and  fame." 

"  Why,  I  saw  it  in  your  studio  only  yes 
terday,  with  a  lot  of  other  stuff  piled  up  in  a 
corner.  Not  much  fame  or  fortune  there, 
apparently.  If  that's  the  sort  of  game  that 
the  spirits  come  on  you,  I  should  say  that 
they  lie  like  Ananias  and  Sapphira." 

"  Hush  !  don't  speak  that  way,  please. 
We  never  know  what  Form  hovers  near." 
(Roberson  said  this  so  earnestly  that, 
involuntarily,  Rowney  glanced  over  his 
shoulder.)  "It  is  true  that  the  promise 
made  by  the  spirit  of  Jan  Weenix  has  not 
yet  been  fulfilled  ;  but,  you  know,  there's  no 
telling  at  what  moment  it  will  be.  Every 
time  that  I  hear  a  strange  step  on  the  stairs, 


194  COLOR  STUDIES. 

I  say  to  myself :  '  He  comes  !  The  Pur 
chaser  comes — and  with  him  come  Fortune 
and  Fame !  '  And  though  I'm  bound  to 
admit  I  haven't  seen  the  least  sign  of  him 
yet,  that  only  assures  me  that  I  have  so 
much  the  less  time  to  wait  for  his  coming. 

"  Yes,  I  believe  in  the  spirits  thoroughly, 
Mauve.  Every  action  of  my  life,  for  years 
past,  has  been  guided  by  them.  And  I 
believe  that  it  is  because  I  have  not  their 
guidance  in  this  great  matter  of  my  love 
that  I  am  going  all  wrong." 

"  What's  the  reason  they  won't  guide  you 
now  ?  Have  you  had  a  row  with  'em  ?  " 

''I  do  wish  that  you  wouldn't  speak  in 
that  irreverent  way.  No,  the  trouble  is  that 
the  medium  whom  I  have  been  in  the  habit 
of  consulting  for  years  has — has  gone  away. 
In  point  of  fact  " — Roberson  blushed  a  little, 
"  he  has  been  arrested  for  swindling.  It  is  a 
great  outrage,  of  course,  and  I  am  desper 
ately  sorry  for  him.  But  I  am  more  sorry 
for  myself.  You  see,  getting  a  new  medium 
is  a  very  difficult  matter.  It  is  not  only  that 


ROBERSOWS  MEDIUM.  195 

he  must  be  a  good  medium  intrinsically,  but 
he  must  possess  a  nature  that  easily  becomes 
en  rapport  with  mine.  When  I  began  this 
conversation,  it  was  in  the  faint  hope  that 
you  also  might  be  a  believer  and  might  be 
able  to  help  me  in  my  quest ;  but  I  see  now 
that  this  hope  has  no  foundation.  I  must 
search  on,  alone — and  until  I  find  what  I  re 
quire  I  shall  toss  aimlessly  upon  the  ocean 
of  life  like  a  rudderless  ship  in  a  storm. 
Don't  think  me  ungrateful,  old  man,  because 
I  am  so  melancholy.  Your  sympathy  has 
cheered  me  up  ever  so  much.  Indeed,  I 
haven't  been  so  light-hearted  since  I  don't 
know  when  " — and  with  tears  in  his  eyes  and 
sorrow  stamped  upon  every  line  of  his  face 
Roberson  gently  minced  his  way  out  of  the 
room. 

"  I  say,  Roberson  !"  Rowney  called  after 
him.  "  I've  a  notion  that  I  know  a  medium 
who  is  just  the  very  card  you  want.  I'll 
look  him  up,  and  if  he's  what  I  think  he  is, 
I'll  pass  him  along  to  you." 

"  Oh,  thank  you,  thank  you  very  much, 


196  COLOR  STUDIES. 

Mauve,"  said  Roberson,  putting  his  head  in 
at  the  door  again.  "  It's  ever  so  good  of 
you  to  think  of  taking  this  trouble  on  my  ac 
count.  But  if  you  will  find  me  a  new  me 
dium,  a  good  one,  you  know,  that  I  can  trust 
implicitly,  you  really  will  make  a  new  man 
of  me."  And  uttering  these  hopeful  words 
Roberson  closed  the  door. 

For  an  hour  or  more  Rowney  Mauve  con 
tinued  to  sit  and  smoke  in  the  big  chair. 
During  this  period  he  grinned  frequently, 
and  once  he  laughed  aloud.  When  at  last 
he  stood  up  and  knocked  the  ashes  from  his 
third  pipe,  it  was  with  the  satisfied  air  of  a 
man  who  has  formulated  an  Idea. 

AT  the  outset  of  this  narrative  the  fact  has 
been  mentioned  that  Violet  Carmine  was  a 
pickle.  The  additional  fact  may  be  appro 
priately  mentioned  here  that  a  residence  of 
five  months  in  the  stimulating  atmosphere  of 
New  York  had  not  by  any  means  tended  to 
make  her  less  picklesome.  Except  in  the 
case  of  Mr.  Mangan  Brown,  who  stood  by 


ROBERSON'S  MEDIUM.  197 

her  loyally,  she  was  the  despair  of  the  Elev 
enth  Street  household  ;  and  she  was  not  favor 
ably  commented  upon  abroad.  After  that 
dinner  at  the  Gamboges — when  Violet  flirted 
so  outrageously  with  young  Orpiment  that 
even  Verona's  placid  spirit  was  ruffled — Mrs. 
Gamboge  said  to  Mr.  Gamboge,  in  the  pri 
vacy  of  their  own  chamber,  that  she  was  very 
sure  that  this  wild  Mexican-Irish  girl  would 
bring  all  their  gray  hairs  down  in  sorrow  to 
the  grave.  Mr.  Gamboge,  who  had  a  rather 
soft  spot  in  his  heart  for  Violet,  and  to  whom 
the  mystery  of  Miss  Caledonia's  back  hair 
was  a  mystery  no  longer,  glanced  shrewdly 
at  the  toilet-table,  grinned  in  a  manner  that 
was  highly  exasperating,  and  made  no  reply. 
Mr.  Gamboge  regretted  his  adoption  of  this 
line  of  rejoinder ;  but  Mrs.  Gamboge — hav 
ing  suffered  peace  to  be  restored  when  she 
found  herself  in  possession  of  the  Indian 
shawl  for  which  her  heart  had  panted  all  win 
ter  long — inclined  to  the  opinion  that  bru 
tality  was  not  without  its  compensating  ad 
vantages,  after  all. 


198  COLOR  STUDIES. 

And  being  a  pickle,  Violet  threw  herself, 
heart  and  soul,  into  the  part  assigned  to  her 
by  Rowney  Mauve  in  the  realization  of  his 
Idea. 

"  It's  delightful,  Rowney  !  "— "  Mamma 
always  used  to  call  her  gentlemen  friends  at 
Fort  Leavenworth  by  their  first  names,  cou 
sin  Mangan.  I  am  sure  that  you  might  let 
me  do  what  mamma  did,"  Miss  Carmine  had 
observed  with  dignity,  when  Mr.  Mangan 
had  suggested  to  her  one  day  that  this  some 
what  unceremonious  mode  of  address  might 
be  modified  advantageously. 

"  It's  delightful,  Rowney !  Really,  I 
didn't  think  that  you  had  the  wit  to  think  of 
doing  anything  so  funny.  Of  course,  I'll 
keep  as  dark  about  it  as  possible.  If  that 
sweet  little  Rose  were  to  get  wind  of  it,  I 
believe  she'd  faint  ;  and  funny  little  old 
cousin  Caledonia  would  have  a  fit ;  and  Van 
would  be  seriously  horrified  and  disagreeable. 
And  even  cousin  Mangan,  who  is  the  dear 
est  dear  that  ever  was,  wouldn't  like  it ;  and 
he'd  end  by  coaxing  me  out  of  it,  I'm  sure. 


ROBERSON'S  MEDIUM.  1 09 

And  I  don't  want  to  be  coaxed  out  of  it, 
Rowney,  for  it  will  be  the  best  bit  of  fun 
that  I  ever  had  anything  to  do  with.  But 
I'll  have  to  have  somebody  along,  you 
know.  And  I'll  tell  you  who  it  will  be  : 
that  nice  Rose  d'Antimoine  !  She's  just  as 
bad  as  they  all  say  I  am.  I  don't  think 
that  I'm  very  bad,  Rowney ;  do  you  ?  Only 
she's  sly,  and  knows  how  to  pretend  that 
she  isn't.  May  I  tell  her  about  it,  and  ask 
her  to  take  a  hand  ?  You'd  better  say  yes, 
for  unless  she  conies  in  I'll  stay  out,  you 
know." 

Rowney,  who  was  acquainted  only  with 
society  young  American  women,  and  to 
whom  the  natural  young  American  woman's 
instinct  of  self-preservation,  that  is  most 
shrewdly  manifested  in  her  determination 
always  to  have  one  of  her  sex  with  her 
in  her  escapades,  was  unknown,  was  rather 
staggered  by  this  proposition,  and  was  dis 
posed  to  raise  objections  to  it.  But  Miss 
Carmine  gave  him  to  understand  in  short 
order  that  his  objections  could  not  be  enter- 


2OO  COLOR   STUDIES. 

tained  for  a  moment.  He  would  do  what 
she  wanted,  she  told  him  decidedly,  or  he 
would  not  do  anything  at  all.  And  Rowney, 
not  altogether  unwillingly,  for  he  did  not 
want  to  get  Violet  into  a  scrape,  gave  in. 
Therefore  the  aid  of  Madame  d'Antimoine 
was  sought,  and  was  given  with  effusion ; 
for  marriage  had  not  tended  to  make  her 
take  a  view  of  life  much  more  serious  than 
that  which  she  had  entertained  when  her 
scandalous  flirtation  with  the  "Marquis" 
had  driven  poor  Jaune  almost  to  extremities. 
So  these  three  lively  young  people  laid  their 
reprehensible  heads  together,  and  if  Rober- 
son's  ears  did  not  burn,  it  was  no  fault  of 
theirs. 

It  was  the  morning  after  this  conference 
that  Rowney  Mauve  dropped  in  upon  Rober- 
son  in  his  studio. 

"  Oh  !  I'm  ever  so  glad  to  see  you,  Mauve," 
said  Roberson.  "  I  was  just  wishing  for  some 
body  to  come  in  to  tell  me  about  this  thing. 
I'm  not  satisfied  with  it  exactly,  and  yet  I 
don't  know  what  there  is  wrong  about  it 


ROBEKSON'S  MEDIUM.  2OI 

either.  I  must  explain  though  what  I'm 
driving  at.  I  call  it  '  The  Real  and  the 
Ideal,'  though  I've  been  thinking  that  pos 
sibly  '  High  Life  and  Low  Life  '  will  be  better. 
On  this  side,  you  see,  I  have  a  pile  of  tur 
nips  and  a  cabbage  and  a  mackerel,  and  on 
this  side  a  vase  of  roses  and  a  glass  globe 
with  goldfish  in  it.  The  idea's  capital — con 
trast  and  that  sort  of  thing,  you  know.  But 
somehow  the  picture  don't  seem  to  come 
together.  I've  changed  the  composition  two 
or  three  times,  but  I  don't  seem  to  get  what 
I  want.  I  do  wish  that  you'd  give  me  your 
advice  about  it,  what  you  honestly  think, 
you  know." 

"  To  tell  the  truth,  Roberson,  the  way 
you've  got  it  now — the  things  all  jumbled 
together  in  a  heap  like  that — it  looks  a  good 
deal  like  nine-pins  after  the  first  ball  has 
cracked  into  'em." 

"No?  does  it  though?  Why,  I  do  be 
lieve  you're  right,  Mauve.  I've  been  think 
ing  myself  that  perhaps  the  composition  was 
too  scattery.  And  yet  I  think  there's  a  good 


2O2  COLOR   STUDIES. 

effect  in  the  way  that  they  rise  gradually  from 
this  one  turnip  here  on  the  left  to  the  roses 
on  the  right.  I  can't  paint  out  those  roses 
again,  they're  too  good — don't  you  think 
that  they're  better  than  Lambdin's  ?  I  do. 
But  I  might  move  the  globe  of  goldfish  over 
to  the  left,  and  then  have  the  mackerel  and 
the  vegetables  along  in  a  row  between  it  and 
the  roses.  How  do  you  think  that  would 
do  ?  I've  got  to  do  something  in  a  hurry, 
for  the  mackerel  is  beginning  to  smell  horri 
bly.  I  hope  you  don't  find  it  very  bad.  I 
put  carbolic  acid  over  it  this  morning.  Oh 
dear !  Mauve.  I  don't  seem  to  be  able  to 
do  anything  in  these  days  ;  now — now,"  and 
Roberson's  voice  became  lower  and  had  a 
tone  of  awe  in  it,  "  that  I  no  longer  have  a 
Guide,  you  know." 

"  That's  just  what  I  came  to  speak  to  you 
about,  Roberson." 

"  Goodness  gracious  !  Mauve,  you  don't 
mean  to  say  that  you  have — that  you  have 
found  a  Medium  ?  "  exclaimed  Roberson  in 
great  excitement,  springing  up  from  his  chair 


KOBERSOWS  MEDIUM.  203 

and  dropping  his  palette  and  mahlstick  with 
a  clatter. 

"  That  is  just  what  I  do  mean  to  say,  old 
man  ;  but  I  wish  that  you  wouldn't  jump 
around  so.  It  disturbs  the  atmosphere  and 
stirs  up  the  smell  of  the  fish  horribly !  " 

"  Oh  !  I  beg  your  pardon.  Just  wait  a 
minute  and  I'll  put  some  more  carbolic  acid 
on  it.  Now  tell  me  about  him.  Is  he  really 
a  good  medium?  Have  you  tested  him? 
Is  he  knocks,  or  voices,  or  a  slate  ?  Is  he — " 

"  He  isn't  '  he  '  at  all ;  he's  a  she." 

"A  'she'?" 

"  Yes,  a  woman  medium,  you  know." 

"  Oh,"  said  Roberson,  doubtfully,  and  with 
less  brightness  in  his  face,  "  I've  never  tried 
a  woman  medium.  Do  you  think  they're 
apt  to  be  as  good  as  men  ?  " 

"  Not  as  a  rule,"  Rowney  answered,  in 
the  grave,  careful  tone  of  one  who  had  given 
the  subject  a  very  thorough  investigation  and 
whose  decision  was  final.  "  No,  not  as  a 
rule  ;  but  as  an  exception,  yes.  Dugald 
Stuart,  in  his  admirable  chapter  on  clairvoy- 


2O4  COLOR  STUDIES. 

ance — spiritualism  hadn't  come  up  in  his 
day,  you  know — says  that  '  the  delicate, 
super-sensitive  nerve-fibre  of  women  renders 
them  far  more  keenly  acute  to  psychic  influ 
ences  than  are  men.  It  is  for  this  reason 
that  women,  and  women  only,  have  given  us 
trustworthy  evidences  of  clairvoyant  phenom 
ena.'  The  eminent  Professor  Crookes, 
during  his  recent  exhaustive  and  most  fruit 
ful  experiments  upon  the  ehement  to  which 
he  has  given  the  name  of  psychic  force,  has 
arrived  at  a  conclusion  which  substantially  is 
identical  with  that  arrived  at  by  the  great 
Scotch  philosopher.  He  says,  clearly  and 
positively,  '  while  the  majority  of  my  experi 
ments  with  women  have  been  failures,  it  is 
a  notable  fact  that  of  all  my  experiments  the 
only  ones  which  have  been  completely  and 
entirely  satisfactory  have  been  those  in  which 
the  operating  force  was  a  woman  ;  and  from 
this  fact  I  conclude  that  only  in  the  exqui 
sitely  sensitive  nervous  structure  of  women 
can  proper  media  for  the  most  interesting, 
the  most  astonishing  class  of  psychic  phe- 


ROBERSON' S  MEDIUM.  2O5 

nomena  be  found.'  Now  what  can  you  say  in 
opposition  to  this  positively  expressed  opin 
ion  of  the  great  English  scientist?  Surely, 
Roberson,  you  will  not  have  the  temerity, 
not  to  say  the  downright  impudence,  to  set 
up  your  opinion,  based  only  on  your  own 
meagre  experience,  against  that  of  this  pro 
found  investigator  ;  against  the  dictum  of  the 
man  who  has  invented  the  Radiometer  ?  " 

Roberson  was  greatly  astonished,  as  well 
as  greatly  impressed,  by  this  eloquent  and 
learned  outburst — and  he  was  a  good  deal 
puzzled,  later,  when  his  most  diligent  search 
through  the  works  of  the  authors  named 
failed  to  discover  the  passages,  or  anything 
at  all  like  them,  that  Rowney  had  quoted. 

"  What  a  wonderful  fellow  you  are, 
Mauve  !  "  he  said,  admiringly.  "  I  had  no 
idea  that  you  had  gone  into  the  matter  in 
this  serious  way." 

lt  Well,  when  I  set  out  to  know  anything, 
I  do  like  to  know  it  pretty  thoroughly," 
Rowney  answered  airily.  "  But  I  hope  that 
what  I've  said  has  weakened  your  prejudice 


206  COLOR   STUDIES. 

against  women-mediums.  A  man  of  your 
strong  intellect,  Roberson,  has  no  right 
to  entertain  a  prejudice  like  that.  Of 
course,  though,  if  you  don't  believe  in 
women-mediums,  we  will  say  no  more  about 
this  one  that  I  have  found  for  you." 

"  Oh,  please  don't  speak  that  way, 
Mauve.  I  see  that  I  have  been  very 
foolish,  and  I  want  to  meet  this  one  very 
much,  indeed.  Who  is  she  ?  " 

"  She's  a  Theosoph." 

"  A  what  ?  " 

"  A  Theosoph — a  member  of  that  won 
derful  and  mysterious  Oriental  Cult  that 
Madame  Blavatsky  so  ably  has  expounded. 
But,  of  course,  you  know  all  about  Theo- 
sophism  ?  " 

"  I  know  about  it  in  a  general  way,  you 
know.  It's  something  like — like  animal 
magnetism,  isn't  it  ?  " 

"  Yes,  it's  something  of  that  general 
nature."  Rowney  found  that  he  was  getting 
into  rather  deep  water  himself,  and  he 
floundered  a  little  in  getting  out  of  it 


ROBERSON' S  MEDIUM.  2O/ 

"  Yes,  it's  like  animal  magnetism  in  a  gen 
eral  sort  of  way.  And  having  this  magnetic 
basis,  you  see,  of  course,  it  affords  a  won 
derfully  perfect  channel  for  communication 
with  the  spirit  world." 

"  Of  course,"  Roberson  assented. 

"And  this  particular  medium,"  Rowney 
continued,  speaking  with  confidence  again, 
now  that  the  awkward  turn  in  the  conversa 
tion  was  safely  past,  "  is  without  exception 
the  most  extraordinary  medium  that  even 
Theosophism  has  produced.  She  does 
everything  that  ordinary  mediums  do,  and 
some  most  astonishing  things  that  they 
don't.  Of  course  you've  seen  materializa 
tions,  Roberson  ?  " 

"  Oh,  yes,  repeatedly." 

"  But  of  people  who  were  dead  ?  " 

"  Of  course." 

"  Well,  this  Theosoph  will  show  you,  will 
actually  show  you  materializations  of  the 
living." 

"  You  don't  say  !  "  said  Roberson,  greatly 
interested. 


208  COLOR  STUDIES. 

"  It's  a  fact,  I  assure  you.  This  has  never 
been  done  before,  and  even  she  has  been 
able  to  do  it  only  recently — after  twelve 
years  of  study  among  the  oldest  Pajamas  of 
the  Cult  in  India.  It's  wonderful !  And 
what  is  more,  she  can  materialize  inanimate 
objects — can  make  things  in  distant  places 
appear  visibly  before  your  eyes.  Of  course 
she  can  do  the  trance  business,  and  knocks, 
and  slate  writing,  and  all  that  sort  of  thing, 
you  might  say,  with  one  hand." 

"  Wonderful !  wonderful  !  "  exclaimed 
Roberson. 

"  Right  you  are,  my  boy.  She  is  the 
most  wonderful  medium  that  the  world,  at 
least  the  Western  World,  has  ever  known. 
She  is — she  is  what  a  Colorado  newspaper 
person  would  call  a  regular  daisy,  and  no 
mistake  !  " 

"  And  when  can  I  see  her,  and  where  ? 
Oh,  Mauve,  my  heart  is  beginning  to 
brighten  again.  I'm  sure  that  she  will  set 
me  in  the  right  way  again  about  my  pict 
ures,  and — and  about  Violet,  you  know." 


ROBERSON' S  MEDIUM.  2CX) 

It  was  with  some  difficulty  that  Rowney 
restrained  his  strong  desire  to  box  Rober- 
son's  ears  for  this  free  use  of  Miss  Carmine's 
name.  But  he  did  restrain  himself,  and 
answered:  "You  shall  see  her  this  very 
night,  and  in  my  studio.  She  is  here  in 
New  York  only  for  a  day  or  two — she 
starts  for  India  again  at  the  end  of  the 
week — and  has  no  regular  place  for  her 
seances,  so  I  have  arranged  with  her  to 
come  to  my  studio  this  evening  at  eight 
o'clock.  Will  that  suit  you  ?  " 

"  Yes,  yes ;  and  thank  you  a  thousand 
times,  Mauve.  I  shall  be  grateful  to  you 
all  my  life  for  what  you  have  done." 

"  Will  you,  though  ?  Don't  be  too  sure 
about  that,"  said  Rowney  with  a  queer 
smile.  "Good-by  till  eight  o'clock.  Phew! 
how  that  fish  does  smell !  " 

EGYPTIAN  darkness  reigned  in  Rowney 
Mauve's  studio  when  Roberson  entered  it 
at  eight  o'clock  that  evening.  Roberson  did 
not  more  than  half  like  this  gloom  and  mys- 


2IO  COLOR  STUDIES. 

tery.  Rowney,  leading  him  to  a  seat,  felt 
that  he  was  trembling.  "  Has  the  Indian 
lady  come  yet  ?  "  he  asked  in  a  shaky  voice. 

"  The  Theosoph  ?  Yes,  here  she  is.  Per 
mit  me  to  present  to  you,  madame,  an  ear 
nest  seeker  after  truth." 

"  It  is  well,"  was  answered  in  a  deep 
voice  that  quavered  as  though  with  sup 
pressed  emotion.  "What  seeks  this  earn 
est  seeker  ?  " 

"  Now,  crack  away  and  ask  about  the 
picture.  You'd  better  begin  with  that,  and 
take  the  other  matter  afterward,"  Rowney 
whispered. 

"  Mustn't  I  call  up  an  advising  spirit  first  ? 
That's  the  usual  way  of  beginning  a  stance, 
you  know." 

"  Oh,  of  course,  that's  what  I  meant  you 
to  do,"  Rowney  answered,  in  some  slight 
confusion. 

"  Is  the  spirit  of  Jan  Weenix  present?" 
asked  Roberson. 

There  was  a  regular  volley  of  raps,  and 
then  the  deep  voice  answered  "  He  is  !  " 


ROBERSOWS  MEDIUM.  211 

("  It  is  ;  there  is  no  sex  in  spirits,"  mur 
mured  Rowney,  sotto  voce.) 

"  I  am  ever  so  glad  to  meet  you  again," 
Roberson  said,  quite  in  the  tone  of  one  who 
greets  an  old  friend  after  a  long  separation. 
(<  I'm  dreadfully  muddled  about  this  new 
picture  of  mine,  '  High  Life  and  Low  Life,' 
you  know.  Won't  you  please  tell  me  what 
I  must  do  to  get  it  right  ?  " 

"  Behold  it  as  the  great  Weenix  himself 
has  painted  it  !  "  and  the  deep  voice  was 
deeper,  and  also  shakier  than  ever. 

"  Now  you  will  see  one  of  the  wonderful 
materializations  that  I  told  you  about," 
Rowney  whispered.  "  Only  the  most  highly- 
gifted  even  of  the  Theosophs  can  do  this 
sort  of  thing.  Look  !  " 

In  one  corner  of  the  room  there  appeared 
a  soft,  hazy  glow,  covering  a  space  of  about 
three  feet  square.  The  haze  passed  slowly 
away,  and  as  the  brightness  increased,  a  picture 
became  visible.  It  was  Roberson's  picture, 
sure  enough,  but  the  composition  had  been 
modified  materially.  The  rosebush  was  in 


212  COLOR  STUDIES. 

the  centre ;  on  one  side  of  it  was  the  glass 
globe,  filled  with  the  vegetables ;  on  the 
other  side  was  the  mackerel,  standing  straight 
up  on  its  tail,  while  the  four  goldfish,  stand 
ing  on  their  tails  and  touching  fins,  were 
circling  around  it  in  a  waltz. 

"  Oh  !  "  was  all  that  Roberson  could  say 
on  beholding  this  astonishing  rearrangement 
of  his  work. 

"  Now,  isn't  that  wonderful  ?  "  Rowney 
asked  impressively. 

"  Ye — es,  it  certainly  is,"  Roberson 
answered  with  hesitation.  "At  least  it's 
very  wonderful  as  a  materialization  ;  indeed, 
I  never  saw  anything  like  it.  But — but 
really,  you  know,  Mauve,  this  arrangement 
of  the  picture  is  a  most  extraordinary  one. 
Is  it  possible,  do  you  think,  that  a  malignant 
spirit  has  obtained  control  of  the  medium  ? 
You  know  that  does  happen  sometimes." 

"  Like  getting  the  wrong  fellow  at  the 
telephone,"  suggested  Rowney. 

"  Precisely,"  Roberson  answered. 

"  And  what  do  you  do  then  ?     With  the 


ROBERSON'S  MEDIUM.  213 

telephone  you  ring  for  the  exchange  again 
and  swear  at  them.  But  that  wouldn't  do 
with  the  spirits,  I  suppose." 

"  Of  course  not,"  said  Roberson,  a  good 
deal  horrified.  "  No,  the  proper  thing  to  do 
when  this  happens  is  to  drop  all  attempts  to 
communicate  with  the  spirit  that  has  been 
called,  and  the  effort  of  which  to  come  has 
been  frustrated,  and  to  continue  the  seance 
with  others  less  susceptible  to  malignant  in 
fluences." 

"  With  the  Theosophs  the  custom  differs 
a  little.  Being  more  potent  than  ordinary 
mediums,  they  usually  insist  upon  the  at 
tendance  of  the  spirit  called.  Still,  it  might 
be  well  in  this  case  to  adopt  the  plan  that 
you  mention.  Suppose  you  go  right  ahead 
and  demand  a  materialization  of  Miss  Car 
mine,  and  then  have  things  out  with  her." 

"  You  don't  mean  to  say  that  the  medium 
can  do  that  ?  " 

"  Indeed  I  do.  Didn't  I  tell  you  that 
these  Theosophs  could  materialize  living 
people  ?  You  don't  seem  to  understand, 


214  COLOR  STUDIES. 

Roberson,  what  a  tremendous  power  is  here 
at  our  command.  But  I'll  manage  it  for 
you."  And  Rowney  continued  in  a  deep, 
solemn  tone  :  "  Madam,  I  conjure  you  to 
compel  the  visible  presence  of  the  spirit  of 
Violet  Carmine." 

As  Rowney  ceased  speaking,  the  materi 
alized  picture  vanished,  the  hazy  light  dis 
appeared,  and  profound  darkness  came 
again.  Then  the  phenomenon  of  the  grad 
ual  appearance  of  the  light  was  repeated  ; 
but  this  time  they  beheld  behind  the  misty 
veil  not  Roberson's  reconstructed  picture, 
but  the  wraith  of  Violet  herself.  Oddly 
enough,  the  beautiful  apparition  seemed  to 
be  doing  its  best  not  to  laugh. 

Roberson  was  so  overpowered  by  this 
astounding  sight  that  he  was  speechless.  It 
was  monstrous,  this  awful  power  that  could 
subject  a  living  being  to  its  sway,  so  far  be 
yond  anything  that  he  ever  had  encountered 
in  the  course  of  his  spiritual  investigations, 
that  a  great  fear  seized  him.  Cold  perspiration 
started  upon  his  forehead,  and  his  knees  shook. 


ROBERSON' S  MEDIUM.  215 

"  Well,  you  goose,  now  that  I'm  here 
haven't  you  anything  to  say  for  yourself? 
Can't  you  even  ask  me  about  what  people 
eat  in  Mexico  ?  "  Voice,  tone,  and  manner 
were  Violet's  to  the  life.  It  was  too  much 
for  Roberson.  His  demoralization  was  com 
plete. 

"  Mauve  !  Mauve  !  for  heaven's  sake  help 
me  to  get  away  !  This  is  no  ordinary  me 
dium.  It  is  the  very  Power  of  Evil  that  we 
have  invoked  !  " 

"That's  a  pretty  compliment  to  pay  a  lady, 
now  isn't  it  ?  "  and  the  apparition  spoke  with 
a  certain  amount  of  sharpness.  "  As  I  didn't 
come  here  to  be  called  bad  names,  I  shall 
leave — and  the  next  time  that  you  have  a 
chance  to  speak  to  me  you'll  be  apt  to  know 
it,  my  lad  !  "  with  these  decisive  words  Miss 
Carmine's  wraith  faded  away,  and  the  misty 
light  slowly  vanished  into  darkness. 

"  Oh  take  me  away  !  take  me  away  !  " 
moaned  Roberson  feebly.  In  his  terror  he 
had  sunk  down  in  a  little  heap  of  misery 
upon  the  floor. 


2l6  COLOR  STUDIES. 

"  All  right,  old  man.  Just  wait  half  a 
minute,  though,  until  I  speak  a  word  to  the 
Theosoph." 

Roberson  heard  Rowney  cross  the  room  ; 
perceived  a  momentary  gleam  of  light — such 
as  might  come  when  a  curtain  that  conceals 
a  lamp  is  quickly  raised  and  quickly  dropped 
again — and  then  came  the  sound  of  whisper 
ing.  Roberson's  fear  was  leaving  him  a  lit 
tle  now  ;  but  in  the  darkness,  without  Row 
ney  to  guide  him,  he  did  not  dare  to  stir. 
Suddenly  the  whispering,  becoming  less 
guarded,  was  audible. 

"  You  shan't !    Go  away  !  " 

"  I  shall !  I  can't  help  it !  You've  no  idea 
what  a  lovely  ghost  you  made  !  " 

Then  there  was  a  sound  of  a  scuffle,  that 
ended  in  a  crash — and  there,  seen  in  a  blaze 
of  light  over  the  fallen  screen,  was  Rowney 
Mauve  in  the  very  act  of  kissing  Violet  Car 
mine.  The  whole  apparatus  of  the  trick  was 
disclosed.  In  the  part  of  the  screen  that  re 
mained  standing  was  the  square  hole  where 
the  picture  had  been  visible  ;  and  the  gradual 


ROBERSOWS  MEDIUM.  21 J 

coming  and  going  of  the  light,  and  its  misti 
ness,  were  accounted  for  by  the  dozen  or  so 
of  gauze  curtains  arranged  to  draAv  back  one 
by  one.  And  there  was  the  picture  itself— 
even  more  shocking  when  seen  clearly  than 
when  hidden  by  the  misty  veil.  On  the 
outer  side  of  the  screen,  where  she  could  man 
age  the  curtains,  stood  Rose  d'Antimoine. 

As  he  sat  there  on  the  floor  and  perceived 
by  these  several  disclosures  how  careful  the 
preparations  had  been  for  making  a  fool  of 
him,  and  as  he  painfully  realized  how  admir 
ably  well  he  had  been  fooled,  fear  ceased  to 
hold  possession  of  Roberson,  and  in  its  place 
came  spiteful  rage. 

"  It's  a  nasty,  mean  trick  that  you  have 
played  on  me  ;  and  I'll  get  even  with  you  for 
it,  see  if  I  don't !  You  ought  to  be  ashamed 
of  yourselves,  every  one  of  you ;  and  I'll 
make  you  ashamed,  too,  before  I  get  through 
with  you." 

"Oh,  come  now,  old  fellow,  it  was  only  a 
joke  you  know.  Don't  be  unreasonable 
about  it  and  raise  a  row." 


2l8  COLOR  STUDIES. 

"  You  may  think  it  a  joke,  Mauve,  to  have 
these  ladies  here  at  your  studio  at  night,  and 
to  go  on  in  that  scandalous  way  with  Miss 
Carmine,  but  I  don't  think  that  either  Mr. 
d'Antimoine  or  Mr.  Brown  will  see  anything 
much  of  a  joke  in  it !  Oh,  you'll  all  repent 
this  !  I'll  teach  you  to  play  tricks  !  I'll  fix 
you,  you  mean  things  !  "  Roberson's  voice, 
never  a  deep  one,  rose  to  a  shrill  treble  as  he 
delivered  these  threats,  and  in  a  perfect  little 
whirl  of  fury  he  rushed  out  of  the  room. 

The  fact  must  be  admitted  that  the  three 
conspirators,  being  thus  delivered  over  into 
the  hands  of  their  intended  victim,  were 
pretty  badly  crest-fallen.  They  knew  that 
Roberson  certainly  had  it  in  his  power  to 
make  things  exceedingly  unpleasant  for 
them  ;  and  they  knew,  too,  that  he  cer 
tainly  intended  to  use  his  power  to  the  very 
uttermost.  Decidedly,  the  outlook  was  not  a 
cheerful  one.  As  they  left  the  studio,  and 
the  wreck  of  their  spirit-raising  apparatus, 
they  all  three  were  in  a  chastened  and  melan 
choly  frame  of  mind. 


ROBEKSON'S  MEDIUM.  219 

"  THERE'S  been  a  dreadful  rumpus,  Row- 
ney,"  Violet  said,  when,  as  they  had  agreed, 
they  met  in  the  friendly  shelter  of  Madame 
d'Antimoine's  drawing-room  the  next  after 
noon.  "  That  mean  little  Roberson  has  told 
everybody  everything,  and — and  hot  water's 
no  name  for  it !  Mr.  and  Mrs.  d'Antimoine 
have  had  a  regular  squabble,  though  they've 
made  things  up  now ;  and  Rose  has  been 
crying  till  her  lovely  blue  eyes  are  all  swollen 
and  ugly ;  and  Van  is  in  a  perfect  Apache 
rage  ;  and  Verona  is  dignifiedly  disagreeable  ; 
and  little  Mrs.  Gamboge  got  so  excited  and 
indignant  that  her  back-hair  all  went  crooked 
and  nearly  came  off,  and  she  had  to  go  up 
stairs  and  fix  it ;  and  dear  little  Mr.  Gamboge 
looks  solemnly  at  me,  and  I  heard  him  say 
as  I  came  by  the  parlor-door :  '  I  am  sure 
that  Mr.  Orpiment  would  not  have  hesitated 
to  characterize  such  conduct  as  highly  repre 
hensible.'  And  the  wo-worst  of  all,  Rowney," 
and  Violet's  voice  broke  and  her  eyes  had 
tears  in  them,  "  is  that  cousin  Mangan  won't 
get  comfortably  angry  and  have  it  out  with 


220  COLOR  STUDIES. 

me,  but  is  just  miserable  and  mopes.  All 
that  he  said  to  me  was  :  '  Mr.  Roberson  has 
told  me  something  that  I  have  been  very 
sorry  to  hear,  my  child,'  and  his  voice  didn't 
sound  right,  and  I  know  that  he  wanted  to 
cry.  O  Rowney,  I'm  the  most  wretched 
girl  in  the  world  !  " 

Rowney  was  feeling  pretty  low  in  his  mind 
already,  and  this  frank  avowal  of  her  misery 
by  Violet  made  him  feel  a  great  deal  lower ; 
and  he  was  cut  the  more  keenly  because 
neither  by  her  words  nor  her  manner  did  she 
imply  that  he  was  the  cause  of  it — as  he  most 
certainly  was. 

"  I  am  very,  very  sorry,"  he  said. 

"Yes,  I'm  sure  you  are,  Rowney;  and  its 
ever  so  good  of  you,  you  dear  boy.  You 
see — you  see,"  and  Violet  blushed  delight 
fully,  "  what  upsets  them  all  so  is  your — 
your  kissing  me  that  way.  Of  course  I  know 
that  you  didn't  mean  anything  by  it,  and  I'm 
sure  I  don't  see  why  they  make  such  a  fuss 
about  it.  Mamma  has  told  me  that  several 
of  her  gentlemen  friends  at  Fort  Leaven- 


ROBERSOWS  MEDIUM.  221 

worth  used  to  kiss  her  whenever  they  got  a 
chance,  and  that  she  always  used  to  box 
their  ears  whenever  they  did  it.  Now,  I 
wonder,"  Violet  continued,  struck  by  a  happy 
thought,  "  I  wonder  if  it's  because  I  didn't 
box  your  ears  that  they  all  object  to  it  so  ? 
Because  if  it  is,  you  know,  I  might  do  it  yet. 
Shall  I  ?  "  and  she  looked  at  him  half  in 
quiringly,  half  with  a  most  bewitching  sauci- 
ness.  The  comfort  of  telling  her  troubles  to 
so  sympathetic  a  listener  was  having  a  very 
reviving  effect  upon  her.  She  certainly  did 
not  look  at  all  like  the  most  wretched  girl  in 
the  world  now. 

Rowney  moved  a  little  closer  to  her,  they 
were  sitting  on  the  sofa,  and  took  her  hand 
in  his.  Then,  rather  shakily,  he  spoke  : 
"Violet!" 

She  started.  He  never  had  called  her 
Violet  before.  But  she  did  not  take  away 
her  hand. 

"  Violet  !  "  Rowney's  voice  had  not  its 
usual  mocking  tone,  but  was  quite  grave  and 
had  a  strange  ring  of  tenderness  in  it.  "  My 


222  COLOR  STUDIES. 

little  girl,  there's  just  one  way  for  me  to  get 
you  out  of  the  scrape  that  I've  got  you  into, 
and  that's  to  marry  you.  May  I  ?  " 

"  O  Rowney  !  Do  you  mean  to  run  away 
with  me  ?  " 

"  Well,  I  hadn't  exactly  contemplated 
running  away  with  you,  I  confess,"  said 
Rowney,  grinning  a  little  in  spite  of  him 
self. 

"  Hadn't  you,  though  ?  "  Violet  answered, 
with  a  touch  of  disappointment.  "  Why, 
grandpapa  ran  away  with  grandmamma,  and 
they  had  a  lovely  time.  Colonel  Smalt, 
that  was  grandmamma's  father,  you  know, 
started  right  out  after  them  with  dogs  and  a 
shot-gun,  and  chased  them  for  two  whole 
days.  And  at  last  they  came  to  a  river  that 
they  had  to  swim  their  horses  across,  and 
the  Colonel,  who  was  close  behind  them, 
swam  after  them.  And  his  horse  was  dead 
beat,  and  couldn't  swim  ;  and  the  Colonel 
would  have  been  drowned  if  grandpapa  had 
not  come  back  and  rescued  him.  And  the 
Colonel  insisted  upon  fighting  grandpapa 


ROBERSON'S  MEDIUM.  223 

right  there  in  the  water,  and  he  did  cut  him 
pretty  badly  ;  and  it  was  not  until  grand 
papa  held  him  under  water  until  he  was 
nearly  drowned  that  the  Colonel  gave  in. 
And  then  grandpapa  carried  him  safely 
ashore  ;  and  after  that,  of  course,  they  were 
the  best  of  friends.  Wasn't  it  all  delight 
ful  ?  I've  heard  mamma  say  again  and 
again,  how  much  she  was  disappointed, 
because  papa  did  not  run  away  with  her. 
So,  don't  you  think,  don't  you  really  think, 
Rowney,  that  you'd  better  run  away  with 
me,  dear  ?" 

"And  have  Mr.  Mangan  Brown,  and 
Van,  and  Mr.  Gamboge  galloping  after  us, 
and  swimming  the  Hudson,  and  peppering 
us  with  shot-guns  ?  " 

"Yes!  yes!  Oh,  do  do  it,  Rowney.  It 
would  be  such  splendid  fun,  and  would  be 
so  very  romantic  !  " 

"  All  right.  If  you  really  want  to  run 
away,  I'd  just  as  lief  have  things  arranged 
that  way  as  any  other,  and  it  certainly  will 
save  a  lot  of  trouble.  But  don't  count  too 


224  COLOR  STUDIES. 

much  on  the  shot-guns,  for  I  don't  think  it 
probable  that  Mr.  Mangan  Brown  and  Mr. 
Gamboge  will  come  out  strong  in  that  direc 
tion  ;  it  isn't  exactly  their  line.  And  nowf 
let  me  have  a  kiss  ;  just  one,  to  make  it  a 
bargain,  you  know." 

And  Madame  d'Antimoine  coming  in  at 
this  moment  assumed  an  air  of  stately  be 
nevolence,  and  said  :  "  Ah,  my  children,  is 
it  thus  ?  Let  me  then  give  to  you  the  bless 
ing,  as  is  done  by  the  good  mamma  in  the 
play  !  " 

MR.  MANGAN  BROWN  did  not  adopt  the 
shot-gun  policy.  Indeed,  this  policy  was 
rendered  quite  impracticable  by  the  fact 
that  Rowney  and  Violet,  immediately  upon 
accomplishing  their  marriage,  did  their  run 
ning  away  on  board  of  Rowney's  yacht — a 
mode  of  departure  that  Violet  approved  of 
rapturously,  because,  as  she  said  with  much 
truth,  "  it  was  so  like  eloping  with  a  real 
pirate."  But  Mr.  Mangan  felt  pretty  dis 
mal  over  it,  and  wrote  a  very  apologetic 


ROBERSON'S  MEDIUM.  22$ 

account  of  his  stewardship  to  Seflor  Car 
mine.  He  tried  to  make  the  best  of  things, 
of  course,  pointing  out  that  in  the  matters  of 
family  and  fortune  Rowney  really  was  quite 
a  desirable  son-in-law ;  but  even  after  he 
had  made  the  best  of  it,  he  could  not  help 
admitting  to  himself  that  the  situation  was 
one  that  a  prudent  parent  scarcely  could  be 
expected  very  heartily  to  enjoy.  And  he 
was  most  agreeably  surprised,  therefore,  a 
month  or  so  later,  when  Seflor  Carmine's 
letter  escaped  from  the  Mexican  Post-Office, 
and  came  to  him  laden  with  olive-branches, 
instead  of  with  the  thunderbolts  which  he 
had  feared. 

Violet's  father  was  not  angry  ;  on  the  con 
trary,  he  seemed  to  be  highly  pleased  with 
the  "  excellent  match  "  that  his  daughter  had 
made,  and  expressed  his  unqualified  ap 
proval  of  the  "  spirited  way  "  in  which  she 
had  made  it.  "  She  has  done  honor  to  her 
self,  to  her  mother,  and  to  the  education 
that  she  has  received,"  Sefior  Carmine  de 
clared,  "  and  we  are  very  grateful  to  you  for 


226  COLOR  STUDIES. 

giving  her  the  opportunity  that  she  has  so 
well  improved."  The  letter  concluded  with 
a  most  urgent  invitation  for  Mr.  Mangan  to 
come  down  for  six  months  or  a  year,  and 
to  bring  with  him  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Gamboge, 
Van  and  Rose,  Verona  and  young  Orpiment, 
and  Monsieur  and  Madame  d'Antimoine, 
with  all  of  whom,  this  hospitable  Mexican 
gentleman  wrote,  he  had  made  a  very  pleas 
ant  acquaintance  in  his  daughter's  letters. 
And  enclosed  in  this  communication  was 
a  note,  signed,  Brigida  O'Jara  de  Carmine, 
of  which  the  theme  was  a  breezy  laudation 
of  the  love  that  defies  conventionalities,  and 
laughs  at  locksmiths,  and  is  the  true  parent 
of  romance  ! 

"Well,  since  they  take  it  this  way,"  said 
Mr.  Mangan  Brown  with  a  great  sigh  of  re 
lief  as  he  laid  down  the  letters,  "  I  must  say 
that  I'm  glad  she's  gone.  At  my  time  of  life 
close  association  with  such  a — such  a  very 
volcanic  young  woman  as  Violet  is,  is  rather 
overwhelming.  It's  like  being  the  Czar  of 
Russia  and  having  the  leading  Nihilist  right 


ROBERSON'S  MEDIUM.  22/ 

in  the  house  with  you.  And  it  is  a  great 
comfort,  just  when  I  thought  that  everything 
was  ending  shockingly,  to  find  that  every 
thing  has  ended  pleasantly.  For — except 
that  Violet  has  left  that  confounded  parrot 
behind  her — everything  has  ended  pleasantly, 
after  all." 

And  only  Roberson,  among  those  who  had 
enjoyed  the  rather  mixed  pleasure  of  Miss 
Carmine's  acquaintance  during  her  sojourn  in 
New  York,  dissented  from  the  optimistic 
view  of  the  situation  thus  formulated  by  Mr. 
Mangan  Brown.  In  this  matter  Roberson 
was  not  optimistic :  he  was  a  pessimist  of 
the  deepest  dye.  When  he  came  to  know 
what  a  boomerang  his  revenge  had  turned 
out  to  be  he  forswore  both  love  and  spirit 
ualism  and  settled  down  to  art  with  the 
stony  calmness  of  despair.  And  it  is  a 
notable  fact — though  a  fact  not  unparalleled 
— that  the  longer  he  painted  the  more  abom 
inably  bad  his  still-lifes  were  ! 


A  MEXICAN  CAMPAIGN. 


A  MEXICAN  CAMPAIGN. 


I. 

THE  MOBILIZATION  OF  THE  TROOPS. 


M1 


R.  PEMBERTON  LOGAN  SMITH 

was  a  member  of  the  Philadelphia 
Sketch  Club ;  and  by  his  associates  in  that 
eminently  democratic  organization  it  gener 
ally  was  conceded  that  if  he  had  not  been 
handicapped  by  the  first  two-thirds  of  his 
name,  and  if  he  had  not  been  born  constitu 
tionally  lazy,  he  probably  would  have  made 
rather  a  shining  light  of  himself  as  a  land 
scape  painter. 

When  this  opinion  was  advanced  in  his 
presence,  as  it  very  frequently  was,  Pern  usu 
ally  laughed  in  his  easy-going  way  and  said 


232  A   MEXICAN  CAMPAIGN. 

that  quite  possibly  it  possessed  some  of  the 
elements  of  truth.  For  Mr.  Pemberton  Lo 
gan  Smith  knew  very  well  that  he  was  con 
stitutionally  lazy,  and  he  as  frankly  gloried  in 
his  double-barrelled  Philadelphia  name  as  he 
did  in  the  fact  that  he  was  a  Philadelphian 
to  the  backbone. 

"  You  see,  old  man,"  he  once  explained  to 
his  New  York  friend,  the  eminent  young 
figure-painter  Vandyke  Brown,  "you  New 
York  people  haven't  much  notion  of  birth, 
and  family  connection,  and  that  sort  of  thing, 
anyway.  There  are,  I  believe,"  said  Pern, 
airily,  "  a  few  good  families  in  New  York,  but 
most  of  your  so-called  best  people  haven't 
the  least  notion  in  the  world  who  their 
grandfathers  were ;  or  else — and  this  amounts 
to  the  same  thing — they  know  so  much 
about  them  that  they  want  to  keep  them  as 
dark  as  possible.  All  you  care  for  over  here 
is  money.  Now,  that  isn't  our  way  at  all. 
Of  course  we  don't  object  to  a  man's  having 
money ;  but  the  first  thing  we  want  him  to 
have  is  birth.  If  he  can  show  that  his  people 


MOBILIZATION  OF  THE   TROOPS.     233 

came  over  with  Penn — or  before  Penn,  as 
mine  did — and  if  he  belongs  to  the  As 
sembly,  and  is  certain  of  his  invitation  to 
the  Charity  Ball,  and  a  few  things  of  that 
sort,  we  take  him  in ;  but  if  he  hasn't  this 
sort  of  a  record — well,  we  think  about  it.  Of 
course,  now  and  then  a  fellow  who  has  only 
money  works  his  way  into  good  society,  pro 
vided  he  knows  how  to  give  a  really  good 
dinner  and  doesn't  stint  the  terrapin.  But 
that  is  the  exception  ;  the  rule  is  the  other 
way." 

But  while  Brown  and  some  of  the  Sketch 
Club  men  regretted  that  Pern  did  not  buckle 
down  to  painting  and  accomplish  some  of 
the  good  work  that  he  undoubtedly  was  cap 
able  of,  Pern  himself  took  the  matter  very 
easily.  He  had  succeeded  in  developing 
enough  energy  to  paint  two  or  three  pictures 
which  deserved  the  praise  that  they  received, 
and  with  this  much  accomplished  he  seemed 
to  be  quite  contented  to  let  his  case  rest. 

In  the  Social  Art  Club,  where  the  artistic 
element  was  infinitesimal,  and  where  Pern's 


234  A   MEXICAN  CAMPAIGN. 

social  high  qualifications  were  accepted  at 
their  proper  high  value,  he  was  regarded  as 
an  artistic  genius  of  a  considerable  magni 
tude.  But  this  was  only  natural,  for  he 
really  knew  something  about  pictures — in 
stead  of  only  partly  knowing  how  to  talk 
about  them. 

And  in  both  of  his  clubs,  and  pretty  gener 
ally  by  his  somewhat  extensive  personal  ac 
quaintance,  Pem  was  set  down — quite  apart 
from  his  qualifications  as  an  artist — as  a  thor 
oughly  good  fellow.  As  a  rule,  a  popular 
verdict  of  this  nature  maybe  critically  exam 
ined  without  being  reversed.  In  certain  quar 
ters  the  fact  was  recognized  that  he  had  been 
a  little  narrowed  by  the  circumstances  of  his 
birth  and  environment ;  but  even  in  these 
quarters  it  was  admitted  that  there  was  some 
thing  very  pleasant  about  him — when  he  was 
not  shying  cocoa-nuts  from  the  heights  of 
his  Philadelphia  family  tree.  And  finally, 
the  three  or  four  people  who  really  knew 
him  well,  among  whom  was  his  friend  Brown, 
believed  that  there  was  an  underlying  strength 


MOBILIZATION  OF  THE   TROOPS.     2$$ 

and  earnestness  in  his  character  which  would 
be  aroused,  and  so  fully  as  to  become  the 
governing  force  of  his  life,  should  any  great 
joy  or  great  calamity  overtake  him  that 
would  stir  his  nature  to  its  depths. 

A  good-looking  young  fellow  of  five  or  six 
and  twenty,  with  pleasant  manners,  plenty  of 
money,  a  faculty  for  taking  odd  and  amusing 
views  of  life,  and  having  at  least  a  spark  of 
genius  in  his  composition — a  young  fellow 
of  this  sort,  I  say,  is  not  to  be  met  with  on 
every  street  corner ;  and  when  he  is  encoun 
tered,  commonplace  humanity,  without  pre 
cisely  knowing  why,  rejoices  in  him  ;  and  un- 
commonplace  humanity,  knowing  precisely 
why,  rejoices  in  him  too. 

On  the  whole,  therefore,  it  was  very  nat 
ural,  when  the  Browns  were  casting  about 
them  for  an  eligible  man  to  whom  to  offer 
the  tenth  section  in  the  car  which  they  had 
chartered  for  their  Mexican  expedition,  that 
Mr.  Pemberton  Logan  Smith  should  have 
been  accorded  the  suffrages  of  the  Mexican 
expeditioners  with  a  flattering  unanimity. 


236  A   MEXICAN  CAMPAIGN. 

Quite  as  naturally,  when  this  offer  to  join  an 
exceptionally  pleasant  party  in  what  prom 
ised  to  be  an  exceptionally  pleasant  interna 
tional  jaunt  was  made  known  to  him,  Mr. 
Pemberton  Logan  Smith  promptly  accepted 
it.  And  he  was  the  more  disposed  to  Mexi 
can  adventure  because  he  had  acquired  a 
very  satisfactory  command  of  Spanish  in  the 
course  of  a  recently  passed  delightful  year  in 
Spain. 

The  projector  of  the  Mexican  campaign 
was  Mr.  Mangan  Brown.  Through  his  leath 
er  connection  in  Boston,  Mr.  Brown  had 
been  induced  to  invest  a  considerable  sum 
of  money  in  what  his  Boston  friends  had 
described  to  him,  at  the  time  when  the  in 
vestment  was  made,  as  the  highly  philan 
thropic  and  very  lucrative  work  of  aiding  in 
the  railway  development  of  Mexico.  A 
fabulously  rich  country  was  waiting,  they 
told  him,  to  be  aroused  into  active  commer 
cial  life  by  the  provision  of  adequate  means 
of  internal  transportation  ;  a  sister  Republic, 
they  added,  was  pining  to  be  bound  to  the 


MOBILIZATION  OF  THE   TROOPS. 

great  nation  of  the  north  by  bonds  of  steel. 
Honor  awaited  the  men  who  would  accom 
plish  this  magnificent  international  work, 
while  the  substantial  return  for  their  philan 
thropy  would  be  unlimited  dividends  in  hard 
cash.  It  was  a  picturesque  way  of  present 
ing  a  commercial  enterprise,  and  Mr.  Brown 
was  moved  by  it.  Pleased  with  the  prospect 
of  figuring  to  future  generations  in  the  guise 
of  a  continental  benefactor,  and  not  averse 
to  receiving  unlimited  dividends,  which 
would  be  all  the  more  acceptable  because 
they  were  so  honorably  earned,  he  listened 
to  the  voice  of  the  Boston  charmers — and 
drew  his  cheque  in  his  customary  liberal  way. 
His  desire  to  go  to  Mexico,  in  part  at 
least,  grew  out  of  his  not  altogether  unnatur 
al  wish  to  find  out  why  some  of  the  promised 
generous  dividends  had  not  been  declared. 
But  aside  from  his  financial  interest  in  the 
sister  republic,  the  erratic  visitation  of  Miss 
Violet  Carmine — now  Mrs.  Rowney  Mauve 
— had  inspired  him  with  a  strong  curiosity  to 
visit  a  country  that  was  capable  of  producing 


238  MEXICAN  CAMPAIGN. 

so  extraordinary  a  type  of  womanhood. 
And  point  had  been  given  to  this  curiosity 
by  the  frequent  warm  invitations  extended  to 
him  by  his  remote  kinsman,  Violet's  father, 
to  come  to  Mexico  for  a  visit  of  indefinite 
length,  accompanied  by  his  family  and  a 
working  majority  of  his  friends.  Hospitality 
of  so  boundless  a  type,  Mr.  Brown  consid 
ered,  in  itself  was  a  phase  of  sociology  the 
study  of  which  was  very  well  worth  a  jour 
ney  of  three  thousand  miles. 

And  finally,  with  an  eye  to  business,  Mr. 
Brown  believed  that  a  visit  to  Mexico  might 
be  made  to  redound  very  materially  to  his 
interest  in  the  matter  of  the  direct  importa 
tion  of  Mexican  hides. 

"  The  leather  business  is  not  what  it  used 
to  be,  Van,"  he  remarked,  somewhat  gloomily, 
to  his  nephew,  when  this  feature  of  the  ex 
pedition  was  touched  upon.  "  When  I  was 
a  young  man,  serving  my  time  with  the  late 
Mr.  Orpiment's  father,  there  were  chances  in 
leather  that  nowadays  nobody  would  even 
dream  of.  I  remember,  in  '46,  our  firm 


MOBILIZATION  OF  THE   TROOPS.     239 

brought  in  two  ship-loads  of  hides  from  Bu 
enos  Ayres,  which  were  worth  almost  their 
weight  in  gold.  They  were  made  right  up  in 
to  shoes  for  Scott's  army,  you  see.  It  always 
has  rested  a  little  heavily  on  my  conscience, 
Van,  that  those  hides  were  made  up  green 
that  way.  The  shoes  that  they  made  of  them 
must  have  worn  out,  I  should  say,  in  rather 
less  than  a  week.  But  I  wasn't  really  re 
sponsible  for  it,  for  I  was  only  a  boy  in  the 
counting  -  room ;  and  even  Mr.  Orpiment 
wasn't  responsible  for  what  was  done  with  the 
hides  after  they  were  sold.  And  our  firm 
certainly  made  a  pot  of  money  out  of  the 
transaction.  Of  course,  I  can't  hope  now  for 
anything  as  good  as  that  was,  no  matter 
what  I  find  in  Mexico ;  but  I  am  sure,  all 
the  same,  that  the  Mexican  leather  market 
is  worth  looking  into — and  if  all  the  Mexi 
cans  are  like  our  cousin  Carmine,  they  must 
be  worth  looking  into  also. 

"  By  the  way,  I  had  a  letter  from  Carmine 
to-day — he  writes  extraordinary  English — 
in  answer  to  mine  telling  him  when  we  are 


240  A   MEXICAN  CAMPAIGN. 

likely  to  get  there  ;  and  instead  of  being  hor 
rified  at  the  prospect  of  having  such  a  lot  of 
us  bowling  down  on  him,  as  I  should  be,  I 
know,  he  says  that  his  only  regret  is  that 
there  are  not  more  of  us  coming.  You'd  think 
that  being  called  upon  this  way  to  entertain 
twelve  people,  with  only  one  in  the  whole 
party  whom  he  ever  has  laid  eyes  on,  and, 
besides  Violet,  only  four — you  and  I,  Verona 
and  your  aunt  Caledonia — who  have  the 
smallest  claim  of  blood  relationship,  would 
upset  even  a  Mexican's  extended  notions  of 
hospitality.  But  it  doesn't  a  bit.  He  writes 
in  the  friendliest  way  that  he  is  looking  for 
ward  with  delight  to  having  us  all  with  him 
for  three  or  four  months  anyway,  and  urges 
us  to  hurry  down  as  quickly  as  possible. 

"  I  confess,  Van,"  Mr.  Brown  went  on,  self- 
reproachfully,  "that  this  whole-souled  sort  of 
welcome  makes  me  feel  a  little  mean  about 
the  half-hearted  way  in  which  we  welcomed 
Violet.  And  I  really  am  ashamed  to  remem 
ber  how  thankful  I  was  when  she  ran  off  with 
your  friend  Rowney  Mauve  and  got  married. 


MOBILIZATION  OF  THE   TROOPS.     241 

To  be  sure,  Violet  wouldn't  have  been  such 
a — such  an  abnormity,  if  it  hadn't  been  for 
that  confounded  parrot.  Thank  heaven,  she 
has  consented  to  leave  the  parrot  at  home 
this  time.  I  don't  think  that  I  could  have 
gone  myself  if  Violet  had  insisted,  as  at  first 
she  seemed  disposed  to,  upon  taking  along 
that  detestable  bird.  Parrots — parrots  are 
awful  things,  Van !  "  And  Mr.  Brown  obvi 
ously  permitted  his  thoughts  to  wander  back 
ruefully  into  a  parrot-stricken  past. 

As  to  the  party  at  large,  it  may  be  said — • 
with  the  exception  of  Mr.  Pemberton  Logan 
Smith — to  have  organized  itself.  Van  and 
Rose,  Verona  and  young  Orpiment,  and  Mr. 
and  Mrs.  Gamboge,  were  so  closely  bound  by 
blood,  marriage,  and  friendship  to  each  other 
and  to  Mr.  Mangan  Brown,  that  they  were  as 
much  a  part  of  his  plan  as  he  was  himself. 
Rowney  Mauve  and  Violet,  the  son-in-law 
and  the  daughter  of  their  prospective  host  in 
Mexico,  naturally  could  not  be  left  out.  That 
Jaune  d'Antimoine  and  his  wife  Rose  (nte 
Carthame)  should  come  along  was  taken  for 

16 


242  A   MEXICAN  CAMPAIGN. 

granted  by  everybody.  Indeed,  these  young 
French  people  were  very  close  to  the  hearts 
of  their  American  friends,  and  leaving  them 
out  of  any  plan  as  pleasant  as  this  Mexican 
plan  promised  to  be  was  not  to  be  thought 
of. 

Jaune,  by  the  way,  had  made  a  great  suc 
cess  in  art  since  that  day  when  Mr.  Badger 
Brush  had  given  him  his  first  order.  To  be 
sure,  as  an  animal-painter  he  could  not  hope 
to  do  work  that  would  rank  with  Van's 
figure-painting;  but  he  considered  himself, 
and  his  wife  considered  him,  as  ranking  far 
above  young  Orpiment.  In  this  opinion,  very 
naturally,  neither  young  Orpiment  nor  Ve 
rona  concurred.  As  to  Verona,  she  enter 
tained  the  profound  conviction  that  lands 
cape-painting  was  the  very  crown  and  glory 
of  all  forms  of  artistic  expression  ;  and  she 
not  less  firmly  believed  that  her  husband  was 
the  highest  expositor  of  that  highest  form  of 
art.  There  was  a  little  "  Evening  on  the 
Hills,"  that  young  Orpiment  had  painted 
while  they  were  on  their  wedding  journey  in 


MOBILIZATION  OF  THE   TROOPS.     243 

the  Catskills,  that  Verona  never  permitted 
him  to  sell,  and  that  she  was  accustomed  to 
compare — to  her  husband's  advantage — with 
the  finer  work  of  Claude.  It  will  be  observed 
that  some  years  of  married  life  had  not  in  the 
least  degree  diminished  —  it  could  not  well 
have  augmented — the  strength  of  Verona's 
wifely  affection. 

The  party  thus  constituted  comfortably 
filled,  with  one  section  to  spare,  the  Pullman 
car  that  Mr.  Mangan  Brown,  who  cared  a 
great  deal  for  comfort  and  very  little  for  ex 
pense,  had  chartered  for  the  expedition. 
Mr.  and  Mrs.  Gamboge,  out  of  respect  to 
their  superior  age,  and  because  of  the  need 
for  superior  privacy  involved  in  the  com 
mercial  peculiarity  of  Mrs.  Gamboge's  back 
hair,  were  accorded  the  cranny  that  the 
Pullman  people  dignify  with  the  name 
of  a  "  drawing-room ; "  and  each  of  the 
other  members  of  the  party  had  a  section 
apiece. 

There  was  some  little  debate  as  to  what 
should  be  done  with  the  spare  section  ;  for 


244  A   MEXICAN  CAMPAIGN. 

they  all  were  agreed  that  another  nice  person 
would  be  welcome ;  and  equally  agreed  that 
it  would  be  a  pity,  in  the  interest  of  nice  per 
sons  abstractly,  to  leave  vacant  a  place  that  so 
many  people  very  gladly  would  fill.  The  sug 
gestion  made  by  Rose  to  Van,  somewhat  tim 
idly,  it  must  be  confessed,  that  old  Madder 
should  be  invited,  never  came  before  the 
house  at  all.  It  was  voted  down  promptly  in 
committee.  Van  had  a  great  deal  of  theoret 
ical  devotion  to  his  father-in-law,  but  he  did 
not  see  his  way  clear  to  this  form  of  its  prac 
tical  expression.  With  a  wise  diplomacy, 
however,  he  refrained  from  making  the  mat 
ter  personal.  After  Rose  was  married  old 
Madder  had  taken  a  little  apartment,  and  his 
sister  kept  house  for  him.  It  was  here  that 
little  Madder  and  Caledonia  were  to  remain 
while  Rose  and  Van  were  in  Mexico.  .What 
would  become  of  the  children,  Brown  asked, 
if  their  grandfather  went  along  ?  And  this, 
of  course,  settled  it. 

A  similar  suggestion,  similarly  made  in 
private  by  his  wife  to  Jaune  d'Antimoine,  in 


MOBILIZATION  OF  THE   TROOPS.     245 

regard  to  Madame  Carthame,  similarly  re 
ceived  a  firm  though  less  skilful  negative. 

Old  Madder  probably  never  knew  that  his 
name  had  been  mentioned  in  connection  with 
the  Mexican  expedition  at  all ;  and  the  dip 
lomatic  Madame  d'Antimoine  certainly  did 
not  permit  her  severe  maternal  relative  to 
imagine  for  a  moment  that  she  had  been 
weighed  in  her  son-in-law's  balance  and 
found  wanting.  But  after  the  party  had 
started,  old  Madder  certainly  did  say  to 
Cremnitz  White  and  .Robert  Lake,  and  one 
or  two  more  of  his  especial  cronies,  that  noth 
ing  under  heaven  could  have  induced  him  to 
accompany  to  Mexico,  or  to  any  other  part 
of  the  world,  a  gang  of  painters  that  hadn't 
a  single  artist  among  them.  And  Madame 
Carthame  likewise  remarked,  addressing  her 
first-floor  lodger,  that  she  would  not,  under 
any  circumstances,  have  permitted  herself  to 
associate  with  these  her  daughter's  friends 
among  the  nouveaux  riches. 

It  really  looked  as  though  the  odd  section 
in  the  Pullman  would  remain  vacant — or  that 


246  A   MEXICAN  CAMPAIGN. 

it  would  be  utilized  only  as  Rose  suggested, 
as  a  cattery.  Rose  was  very  fond  of  cats, 
and  to  her  mind  the  suggestion  seemed  to 
be  a  very  reasonable  one;  for  she  wanted 
greatly  to  take  her  Persian  cat,  Beaux-yeux, 
along. 

However,  the  feline  member  was  not  add 
ed  to  the  party,  for  at  this  stage  of  proceed 
ings  Van  put  a  large  spoke  in  the  wheel  of 
his  Philadelphia  friend's  fate  by  suggesting 
Mr.  Pemberton  Logan  Smith  as  an  eminent 
ly  fit  person  to  fill  the  vacancy.  And  so 
the  organization  of  the  friendly  army  of  in 
vasion  was  made  complete. 


II. 

THE  ENGAGEMENT  AT  THE   FRONTIER. 

MRS.  GAMBOGE  approached  the 
Mexican  border  with  a  heavy  heart. 

"Are  the — the  custom-house  examinations 
very  strict  ? "  she  asked  of  Mr.  Gamboge,  as 
they  waited  at  the  station  in  El  Paso  for  the 
train  that  was  to  back  across  from  the  Mexi 
can  side  of  the  river  and  hook  on  their  car. 

There  was  something  in  the  tone  of  the 
lady's  voice  that  caused  her  husband  to  look 
at  her  sharply,  and  to  observe  with  some  as 
perity  :  "  You're  not  trying  to  smuggle  any 
thing,  I  hope  ? " 

"  N — no,"  responded  Mrs.  Gamboge,  with 
a  manifest  hesitation.  "  But  it — it's  so  hor 
rid  to  have  one's  things  all  pulled  to  pieces, 
you  know." 

"  You've  got  to  make  the  best  of  it.     You'd 


248  A   MEXICAN  CAMPAIGN'. 

have  done  better  if  you'd  taken  my  advice 
and  not  brought  along  such  a  lot  of  things 
to  pull,"  replied  Mr.  Gamboge,  unfeelingly. 
"  What  possible  use  you  can  have  for  two  big 
trunks  on  a  trip  of  this  sort,  I'm  sure  I  can't 
imagine." 

Mrs.  Gamboge  did  not  respond  to  this  un 
kind  remark.  She  retired  at  first  into  a  pained 
and  dignified  silence,  and  then  into  the  pri 
vacy  of  the  so-called  drawing-room.  A  few 
minutes  later,  when  Mr.  Gamboge — who  was 
a  most  amiable  little  round  man — followed 
her  to  this  their  joint  apartment  to  make 
amends  for  his  mild  severity,  he  found  the 
door  locked ;  nor  would  Mrs.  Gamboge  for 
some  moments  suffer  him  to  enter.  When 
she  emerged  from  her  retreat  there  was  an 
expression  of  anxiety  upon  her  usually  placid 
face;  and  until  the  custom-house  examina 
tion  was  ended — which  was  in  a  very  few 
minutes,  for  the  customs  officials  were  re 
freshingly  perfunctory  in  their  methods — it 
was  evident  that  there  was  a  weight  upon 
her  mind. 


ENGAGEMENT  AT  THE  FRONTIER.    249 

As  the  train  moved  away  southward,  from 
Paso  del  Norte,  Mr.  Gamboge  went  into  the 
"  drawing-room  "  for  his  cigar-case,  and  was 
startled  as  he  entered  the  apartment  by  a  lit 
tle  shriek  of  alarm. 

"  Oh !  I  thought  I'd  locked  the  door,"  said 
Mrs.  Gamboge,  speaking  with  some  confusion 
and  at  the  same  time  hastily  throwing  a  shawl 
over  a  cage-like  structure  that  was  lying  on 
the  seat.  "  Do  go  out,  dear.  You  can  come 
back  in  a  moment." 

"  Caledonia,"  said  Mr.  Gamboge,  seriously, 
"  I  hope  that  you  have  not  really  been  smug 
gling.  Let  me  see  what  you  have  under  that 
shawl." 

"  I  haven't  been  smuggling.  Indeed,  I 
haven't — at  least  nothing  that  I  haven't  a 
perfect  right  to.  Do  go  away — only  for  a 
moment,  but  do  go  away." 

All  this  was  so  out  of  keeping  with  the 
character  of  his  wife — who,  excepting  in  re 
gard  to  the  purely  conventional  secret  of  the 
commercial  genesis  of  her  back  hair,  never  had 
made  even  an  approach  toward  having  a  sc- 


25O  A   MEXICAN  CAMPAIGN. 

cret  from  him — that  Mr.  Gamboge  was  seri 
ously  discomposed. 

"  Indeed,  my  dear,  you  must  let  me  see 
what  you  are  hiding,"  he  said,  at  the  same 
time  making  a  step  forward  and  extending 
his  hand  toward  the  shawl. 

"  Oh,  don't !  don't,  I  beg  of  you  ! "  Mrs. 
Gamboge  implored,  fairly  wringing  her  plump 
little  white  hands.  "  It's — it's  only  my — my 
bustle.  I've  been  taking  it  off." 

"  A  bustle  ! "  replied  Mr.  Gamboge,  with 
both  scorn  and  indignation.  "Bustles  are 
absurdities  and  monstrosities,  and  you  very 
well  may  be  ashamed  of  having  anything  to 
do  with  them.  But  as  you  have,  to  my  cer 
tain  knowledge,  abandoned  yourself  to  this 
species  of  deformity  for  several  years  past, 
and  never  have  even  remotely  hinted  that 
you  wanted  to  make  a  mystery  of  your  folly, 
I  am  at  a  loss  to  understand  why  you  want 
to  make  a  mystery  of  it  now.  Come,  my 
dear,  you  must  let  me  see  what  you  have 
hidden  here.  I  don't  want  to  hurt  your  feel 
ings,  Caledonia,  but  indeed  I  must  look." 


ENGAGEMENT  AT  THE  FRONTIER. 

And  speaking  thus  firmly,  Mr.  Gamboge 
gently  disengaged  himself  from  his  wife's  re 
straining  arms  and  lifted  the  shawl. 

"  It  is  a  bustle,  sure  enough,"  he  said,  with 
some  confusion.  "  But  what's  this  inside  of 
it  ?  "  he  added,  in  a  different  tone,  as  he  per 
ceived  in  the  interior  of  the  structure  a  care 
fully  tied  up  little  package  of  some  appar 
ently  soft  substance.  Mrs.  Gamboge  made 
no  reply.  She  was  seated  upon  the  sofa, 
gently  sobbing. 

"  Why,  Caledonia,"  cried  Mr.  Gamboge,  in 
astonishment,  as  he  unwrapped  the  parcel, 
"  it's  your  back  hair !  And  yet  you  have 
your  hair  on,  just  as  usual.  I — I  am  very 
sorry,  Caledonia,"  he  went  on  humbly,  being 
overcome  by  the  conviction  that  he  had  con 
trived  at  one  and  the  same  time  to  make  a 
fool  and  a  brute  of  himself.  "  Indeed,  in 
deed,  dear,  I  hadn't  the  least  notion  in  the 
world  what  it  was  ;  I  hadn't,  upon  my  word. 
Will  you — will  you  forgive  me,  Caledonia  ?  " 
Mr.  Gamboge  seated  himself  on  the  little 
sofa,  placed  his  arm  about  his  wife's  plump 


252  A  MEXICAN'  CAMPAIGN'. 

waist,  and  gently  drew  her  toward  him.  He 
was  very  contrite. 

Mrs.  Gamboge,  however,  resisted  his  ad 
vances.  "Go  away,"  she  said,  between  her 
sobs.  "  Go  away !  After  all  these  years  that 
you  have  been  so  good  to  me,  I  never  thought 
you  would  do  a  thing  like  this.  Now  go 
and  smoke  your  cigar.  Of  course,  after  a 
while  I  shall  get  over  it,  but  you  had  better 
leave  me  now." 

Mr.  Gamboge,  however,  being  truly  peni 
tent,  was  not  to  be  thus  repulsed.  "  I  have 
been  very  rude,"  he  said,  "and,  without 
meaning  to  be,  very  unkind.  But  I  beg  of 
you,  Caledonia,  to  forgive  me.  You  know 
how  I  love  you,  and  you  know  that  I  would 
love  you  just  as  much  if  you  were  absolutely 
bald — which  you  are  not,  nor  anything  like 
it,"  Mr.  Gamboge  hastened  to  add,  perceiv 
ing  that  the  expression  of  his  affection  in 
these  terms  was  unfortunate.  "  Your  front 
hair  is  quite  thick,  positively  thick,  and  that 
is  the  important  place  to  have  hair,  after  all." 
He  spoke  with  more  assurance,  feeling  that 


ENGAGEMENT  AT  THE  FRONTIER.    253 

he  was  getting  upon  firmer  ground.  "  So 
won't  you  try  to  forgive  me,  Caledonia  ?  won't 
you  try,  dear  ?  " 

"  Will  you  solemnly,  solemnly  promise," 
asked  Mrs.  Gamboge,  still  sobbing  gently, 
but  nestling  her  head  a  little  closer  on  his 
shoulder  as  she  spoke,  "  never  to  say  a  word 
about  what  has  happened  ?  I  know  that 
you  won't  speak  about  it  to  anybody  else ; 
but  will  you  promise,  on  your  sacred  word  of 
honor,  never  to  speak  about  it  again  to  me  ?  " 

Mr.  Gamboge  gave  the  desired  pledge,  and 
so  peace  was  restored. 

"  I  was  so — so  afraid  that  the  custom 
house  man  might  find  it,  you  see,"  Mrs. 
Gamboge  explained  a  little  later,  as  she  still 
sat,  with  her  husband's  arm  around  her,  on 
the  sofa.  "  I  wouldn't  perhaps  have  minded 
the  custom  man,"  she  continued,  "  nor  even 
Verona,  and  not  much  Rose ;  but  I  couldn't 
bear  the  thought  that  that  French  young 
woman,  Mrs.  d'Antimoine,  you  know,  should 
see  it,  for  I  know  how  Violet  and  she  would 
have  laughed." 


254  A   MEXICAN  CAMPAIGN. 

And  then  she  added,  "  It's — it's  my  spare 
hair,  you  know.  Don't  you  think  that  I  did 
right  to  bring  my  spare  hair  along,  dear  ?  " 

Mr.  Gamboge  kissed  her,  and  said  that  he 
thought  she  did. 


III. 

THE  PARLEY  UNDER  FALSE  COLORS. 

r  I  ^H AT  Mrs.  Gamboge  was  a  trifle  melan- 
1  choly  during  the  day  following  her  en 
try  into  Mexico  cannot  be  denied ;  but  her 
gloom  was  of  a  gentle,  unobtrusive  sort,  and 
by  no  means  affected  the  general  high  spirits 
of  the,party  at  large. 

Violet  Mauve,  to  be  sure,  was  disposed  to 
consider  herself  personally  injured  by  her  ar 
rival  at  El  Paso  without  having  had  the  op 
portunity  to  enjoy  the  enlivening  experience 
of  a  train  robbery  in  Texas.  Her  earnest 
desire  had  been  to  come  down  to  Vera  Cruz 
in  Rowney's  yacht  and  to  join  the  expedition 
in  the  City  of  Mexico ;  for  she  was  con 
vinced  that  Lafitte  still  sailed  the  Gulf,  and 
it  was  the  highest  ambition  of  her  life  to  be 
captured  by  a  real  pirate.  Rowney's  diplo- 


256  A   MEXICAN  CAMPAIGN. 

matic  suggestion  that  their  train  was  pretty 
certain  to  be  held  up  and  robbed  by  Texan 
desperadoes  alone  had  reconciled  her  to  mak 
ing  the  journey  by  rail ;  and  as  this  pleas 
ant  possibility  had  not  been  realized,  she  felt 
herself  to  be  a  person  whose  rights  as  a  lover 
of  spirited  adventure  had  been  trampled 
upon. 

"  Don't  you  think  that  Rowney  has  treated 
me  very  badly,  Mr.  Smith  ?  "  she  asked,  with 
a  good  deal  of  indignation,  when  the  safe  ar 
rival  of  the  party  in  El  Paso  had  made  fur 
ther  chances  for  encounters  with  desperadoes 
impossible.  "  He  as  good  as  promised  me 
that  we  should  have  a  train  robbery — and  I 
always  have  so  wanted  to  be  in  one — and  for 
all  that  we  have  had  in  the  way  of  adventure, 
excepting  the  horrible  risks  of  our  lives  at 
the  railway  restaurants,  we  might  as  well 
have  been  spending  our  time  riding  back 
ward  and  forward  between  Philadelphia  and 
New  York.  Oh,  how  I  wish  now  I'd  in 
sisted  upon  coming  down  in  the  yacht ! 
Meeting  a  pirate  in  a  long  black  schooner 


PARLEY  UNDER  FALSE   COLORS. 

with  a  black  flag  and  a  skull  and  crossbones, 
and  a  desperately  wicked  crew,  would  have 
been  so  delightful !  Don't  you  think  so  ? 
And  don't  you  think  I  have  been  very  badly 
used  indeed  ?  " 

"  Well,  in  the  matter  of  train  robbers  and 
pirates,  Mrs.  Mauve,  I  can't  say  that  I  have 
had  enough  personal  experience  to  justify  me 
in  venturing  on  a  very  positive  opinion, 
though  I've  no  doubt  they  are  great  fun,  just 
as  you  say.  But  as  a  Philadelphian  I  do 
know  about  eating  " — Pern  spoke  with  much 
feeling — "  and  I  must  say  that  on  that  score 
I  think  that  you  and  all  the  rest  of  us  have 
been  treated  abominably.  It  is  not  so  much 
that  the  food  is  so  wretched  at  these  railway 
places,  you  know — for  at  some  of  them  it 
really  wasn't ;  but  it's  this  horrible  fashion 
the  railway  people  have  of  treating  their  pas 
sengers  as  though  they  were  locomotives — 
things  that  food  and  drink  can  be  shovelled 
into  and  pumped  into  at  the  end  of  a  section 
with  a  rush.  But  even  a  locomotive,  I  fan 
cy,"  said  Pern,  gloomily,  "  would  resent  hav- 


258  A   MEXICAN  CAMPAIGN. 

ing  all  the  coal  and  water  that  is  to  keep  it 
going  for  the  next  six  hours  poked  under 
and  into  its  boiler  in  twenty  minutes ;  and 
that's  just  what  happens  to  the  passengers, 
you  know.  I  assure  you,  Mrs.  Mauve,  I 
haven't  had  the  faintest  approach  to  a  com 
fortable  meal  since  we  left  the  Missouri 
River ;  and  I  know  that  I  have  made  a  long 
start  toward  ruining  my  digestion  for  the  rest 
of  my  life. 

"  Of  course  the  railway  officials  them 
selves  must  feed  in  this  shocking  way  when 
they  are  travelling  on  their  own  trains.  Now, 
I  wonder,"  continued  Pern,  meditatively,  "  I 
wonder  what  a  railway  official  is  like  ?  Do 
you  suppose,  Mrs.  Mauve,  that  he  has  an  in 
side,  you  know,  like  ordinary  people ;  or 
that  he  is  some  form  of  highly  specialized 
life  from  which  environment,  and  selection, 
and  that  sort  of  thing  has  eliminated  the 
digestive  function  altogether  ?  I  wish  Dar 
win  wasn't  dead  ;  I'd  write  and  ask  him." 

Violet,  whose  knowledge  of  the  doctrine 
of  evolution  was  somewhat  limited,  was 


PARLEY  UNDER  FALSE   COLORS.      2 $9 

rather  mystified  by  the  turn  that  Pern  had 
given  to  the  conversation  ;  but  she  accepted 
his  suggestions  in  good  part,  and,  seeing  her 
way  clear  to  answering  a  portion,  at  least,  of 
his  utterance,  asked  him,  with  a  very  fair 
show  of  sympathy,  if  his  friend  had  been 
dead  long. 

Violet  did  not  always  quite  understand 
what  Pern  was  talking  about ;  but  she  recog 
nized  the  fact  that  he  was  a  good  deal  of  a 
piece,  in  his  lazy,  easy-going,  queer  ways, 
with  her  own  husband,  and  she  liked  him  ac 
cordingly.  Indeed,  the  disposition  of  the 
entire  party  toward  its  Philadelphia  member 
was  of  the  friendliest  sort.  In  speaking  of 
his  great-great-great-uncle,  a  distinguished 
Philadelphian  of  the  past  century,  he  had 
pleased  and  interested  Mr.  Mangan  Brown 
by  stating  that  this  gentleman  had  been  ex 
tensively  engaged  in  the  leather  business. 
He  had  won  the  heart  of  Mrs.  Gamboge  by 
telling  her — shortly  after  Mr.  Gamboge  had 
been  giving  one  of  his  rather  frequent  funny 
little  exhibitions  of  extreme  vacillation  of 


26O  A   MEXICAN  CAMPAIGN. 

purpose — that  he  greatly  admired  her  hus 
band  because  of  his  firmness  of  character. 
He  commended  himself  to  Mr.  Gamboge  by 
the  thorough  soundness  of  his  rather  old- 
fashioned  views  upon  dinners.  The  young 
women  of  the  party  liked  him  because  he  had 
the  knack  of  doing  and  saying  just  the  right 
things  at  the  right  time ;  of  never  being  in 
the  way,  and  of  always  being  amusing.  And 
the  young  men  liked  him  because  he  could 
talk  shop  with  them  intelligently,  and  took 
a  lively  interest — since  the  work  was  to  be 
done  by  somebody  else — in  their  several  ar 
tistic  projects.  In  short,  Pern  found  himself, 
as  he  was  in  the  habit  of  finding  himself, 
a  general  favorite. 

"  What  a  pity  it  is,  Van,"  Rose  observed 
to  her  husband  in  the  privacy  of  their  cham 
ber  in  the  little  Hotel  Central  in  Aguas  Cali- 
entes,  "  that  your  friend  Mr.  Smith  does  not 
get  married.  I'm  sure  that  he  has  the  mak 
ing  of  a  very  good  husband.  Of  course  he 
wouldn't  be  a  husband  like  you,  dear,  and 
his  wife  couldn't  expect  to  be  as  happy  as  I 


PARLEY  UNDER  FALSE   COLORS.      26l 

am  with  you.  But  for  just  the  ordinary  sort 
of  husband,  I'm  sure  that  he'd  be  much  bet 
ter  than  the  average." 

"  He'd  be  obliged  to  you  if  he  heard  that 
somewhat  qualified  expression  of  approval." 

"  Yes,  I  suppose  he  would,"  Rose  answered, 
in  good  faith.  "  But  I  think  that  he  quite 
deserves  it,  for  I  believe  that  he  would  make 
a  very  good  husband  indeed.  And  do  you 
know,  Van,"  she  continued,  presently,  "  I 
think  that  there  are  a  great  many  happy 
marriages  in  the  world.  I  mean,"  she  added, 
by  way  of  expressing  herself  with  absolute 
clearness,  "  marriages  which  are  happy  when 
they  seem  as  if  they  certainly  mustn't  be." 

Van  looked  a  little  puzzled. 

"  Now,  you  know  those  people  we  have 
noticed  sitting  opposite  to  us  in  the  restau 
rant  :  the  nice  little  Mexican  woman,  you 
know,  and  the  German-looking  man  in  black 
with  the  big  nose  ?  " 

"  The  man  like  an  underdone  undertaker, 
who  drinks  beer,  and  who  never  opens  his 
mouth  except  to  give  an  order  to  the  waiter  ? 


262  A   MEXICAN  CAMPAIGN. 

You  don't  mean  to  say  that  that  is  a  happy 
marriage,  do  you,  Rose  ?  " 

"  Indeed  I  do,  and  it  was  because  I  was 
thinking  about  those  people  that  I  said  that 
a  great  many  marriages  which  didn't  seem 
happy  really  were.  She  is  a  dear  little  wom 
an,  Van,  and  her  life  has  been  a  regular 
romance.  She  has  had  such  heavy  sorrows ; 
and  now  everything  has  come  right,  and  she 
is  as  happy  as  the  day  is  long." 

"Why,  what  do  you  know  about  her,  child  ? 
Has  she  been  telling  you  her  life's  history?" 

"That's  just  what  I'm  coming  to.  It  is 
so  interesting — just  like  a  heroine  in  an  old- 
fashioned  novel.  This  morning — while  you 
were  gone  to  look  at  those  horrid  dead  dried- 
up  monks,  you  know — I  wanted  Luciano  to 
bring  me  some  drinking-water.  I  never  shall 
get  used  to  having  chambermen  instead  of 
chambermaids,  Van  :  I  quite  agree  with  Aunt 
Caledonia — I  think  it's  horrid.  Well,  I  went 
out  into  the  gallery  and  clapped  my  hands, 
and  when  Luciano  came  I  said  agua,  and 
then  I  pointed  to  my  mouth.  And  he  said 


PARLEY  UNDER  FALSE   COLORS.      26$ 

something  in  Spanish,  and  pointed  to  the 
full  water-bottle  on  the  wash-stand.  '  But  I 
want  fresh  water,  cool  water,'  I  said.  And 
Luciano  did  not  understand  at  all,  and  only 
grinned  at  me.  And  just  then  that  dear 
little  Mrs.  Heintzbach  came  out  of  her  room 
and  said  in  such  nice  English — she  's  lived 
part  of  her  life  in  California,  she  told  me — 
that  I  needed  a  little  help.  And  then  she 
made  Luciano  understand  what  I  wanted. 
So,  of  course,  we  got  into  talk  then,  and  I 
invited  her  into  our  room,  and  she  came,  and 
she  was  so  lady-like  and  so  sweet  that  we  got 
to  be  friends  almost  immediately." 

"  What !  you  made  friends  with  that  wom 
an  in  that  off-hand  way !  "  Van  seemed  to 
be  a  good  deal  horrified,  and  he  also  seemed 
to  be  inclined  to  burst  out  laughing. 

"  I  must  say  that  I  don't  see  what  there 
was  very  remarkable  about  it,"  Rose  re 
sponded,  with  some  dignity.  "  She  is  a  very 
charming  woman,  and  not  a  '  that  woman ' 
sort  of  person  at  all.  She  belongs  to  very 
nice  people,  I'm  sure." 


264  A   MEXICAN  CAMPAIGN. 

"  Yes,  I'm  sure  she  does,  too — on  her  hus 
band's  side,  especially,"  Van  answered,  with 
a  chuckle.  "  Go  on,  Rosekin ;  I'm  immense 
ly  interested." 

"  It's  about  her  husband  that  I  was  going 
to  tell  you.  For  all  his  silent,  grave  way,  he 
is  a  delightful  man,  Van ;  as  good  and  as 
kind  as  he  can  be.  You  see,  when  Mrs. 
Heintzbach  was  a  young  girl,  a  mere  child  of 
sixteen,  her  father  and  mother  made  her 
marry  a  horrid,  rich  Mexican,  a  friend  of 
theirs,  old  enough  to  be  her  grandfather. 
He  led  her  a  perfectly  shocking  life.  His 
jealousy  was  terrible!  Why,  he  wouldn't 
even  let  her  look  out  of  a  window  on  the 
street.  He  had  all  the  front  windows  of 
their  house  bricked  up,  and  never  let  her  stir 
outside  of  the  front  door  unless  he  went  along 
with  her.  She  told  me  with  tears  in  her 
eyes  that  she  knew  that  it  was  very  wicked, 
but  she  couldn't  help  being  so  glad  when  he 
died  that  she  wanted  to  dance !  It  was 
pretty  horrible,  when  you  come  to  think  of 
it,  to  want  to  dance  because  your  husband  is 


PARLEY  UNDER  FALSE   COLORS.      26$ 

dead ;  but,  really,  considering  what  sort  of 
husband  he  was,  I  don't  know  that  I  can 
blame  her." 

"  And  then  she  married  the  gam  —  Mr. 
Heintzbach,  I  mean  ?  " 

"  Yes — at  least  in  a  little  while.  She  met 
him  soon  after  her  husband's  death.  And 
she  had  a  chance  to  get  to  know  him  then, 
because  she  was  a  widow  and  it  was  all  right 
for  her  to  see  him  alone  and  talk  with  him 
comfortably.  I  never  shall  get  used  to  the 
way  women  are  treated  here,  Van ;  young 
girls  kept  perfect  prisoners,  and  only  married 
women  and  widows  and  very  old  maids  given 
the  least  bit  of  freedom.  It's  shocking. 

"  Well,  she  saw  a  good  deal  of  him,  and 
she  liked  him  from  the  first ;  and  of  course 
he  liked  her.  And  so,  as  soon  as  he  decently 
could,  he  told  her  that  he  loved  her ;  and  the 
end  of  it  was  that  in  less  than  a  year  they 
were  married.  And  he  has  made  her  such  a 
good  husband,  Van !  He  is  so  loving  and 
trustful  and  affectionate,  so  unlike  her  first 
husband,  she  says." 


266  A   MEXICAN  CAMPAIGN. 

Brown  was  chuckling  softly.  "  Did  she 
say  anything  about  her  husband's  business  ?  " 
he  asked. 

"  No,  not  directly.  She  spoke  about  his 
going  every  evening  to  the  bank,  I  remember. 
But  it  can't  be  managed  like  our  banks," 
Rose  added,  reflectively ;  "  for  our  banks  are 
not  open  in  the  evening,  are  they?" 

Brown  continued  to  chuckle.  "  Some  of 
them  are,"  he  answered. 

"And  she  spoke  about  his  being  kept  out 
very  late — till  two  or  three  o'clock  in  the 
morning.  That  isn't  like  our  banks,  I'm 
sure.  And  they  are  travelling  almost  con 
stantly.  She  says  that  there  is  not  a  large 
city  in  Mexico  that  she  has  not  visited  with 
her  husband.  Her  own  home  is  in  Guana 
juato,  and  she  has  promised  to  give  us  letters 
of  introduction  to  her  people  there;  they 
must  be  very  important  people,  from  the  way 
she  spoke  about  them.  Won't  it  be  nice, 
Van,  to  have  letters  to  the  best  people  in 
Guanajuato?  I  thanked  her  ever  so  much  ; 
and  I  asked  her  to  come  and  see  us  when  she 


PARLEY  UNDER  FALSE   COLORS,      26j 

is  in  New  York,  and  she  said  she  certainly 
would.  And  early  to-morrow  morning,  after 
she  comes  back  from  church — she  is  a  very 
religious  woman,  and  goes  to  church  every 
morning,  she  says — we  are  to  take  a  walk 
together  in  the  little  San  Marcos  park.  She 
is  very  lonely  in  the  early  morning,  she  says, 
for  her  husband  never  gets  up  till  ten  o'clock. 
Aren't  you  pleased,  Van,  that  all  by  myself  I 
have  made  such  a  pleasant  friend  ?  " 

Brown  was  silent  for  a  moment  or  two, 
and  then  startled  his  wife  by  exclaiming: 
"Well,  by  Jove!  Rose,  you  have  excelled 
yourself!  You've  picked  up  some  queer 
friends  at  one  time  and  another,  but  I  never 
thought  you'd  ring  in  this  way  with  the  wife 
of  a  Dutch  gambler ! " 

Rose  sprang  up  with  a  little  gasp.  "Van  ! 
What  do  you  mean  ?  "  she  cried. 

But  her  husband,  instead  of  answering  her, 
burst  into  such  fits  of  laughter  that  he  fairly 
held  his  sides.  "  Oh,  what  a  commentary  on 
all  the  tracts  of  the  Tract  Society,"  he  said, 
at  last,  speaking  with  difficulty.  "  Upon  my 


268  A   MEXICAN-  CAMPAIGN. 

word,  I'll  write  a  tract  myself  and  call  it, 
'  The  Mexican  Gambler's  Wife ;  or,  The 
Happy  Home ' — the  gambler  a  model  of  all 
the  domestic  virtues,  you  know,  and  his  wife 
a  shining  example  of  simple,  unostentatious 
piety !  O  Rose !  Rose  !  what  a  treasure- 
house  of  unexpected  delights  you  are  ! "  And 
Brown  threw  himself  on  one  of  the  little 
beds  and  laughed  until  the  tears  rolled  from 
his  eyes. 

"  When  you  are  quite  done  laughing,  Van," 
said  Rose  with  severity,  but  at  the  same  time 
with  a  decidedly  frightened  look,  "will  you 
please  tell  me  just  what  you  mean  ?  I  know, 
of  course,  that  this  good  Mr.  Heintzbach  is 
not  a  gambler;  but  he  may  be  something — 
something  perhaps  a  little  queer.  Oh,  have 
I  done  anything  very  silly,  Van  ?  "  And  Rose 
manifested  symptoms  of  collapse,  which  were 
intensified  as  her  husband  enfolded  her  in 
his  arms. 

"  It  is  as  true  as  gospel,  Rose,"  said  Van, 
still  laughing  gently.  "  Your  friend's  hus 
band  is  a  gambler,  and  no  mistake.  His 


PARLEY  UNDER  FALSE   COLORS.      269 

visits  to  the  principal  cities  of  Mexico  are 
strictly  professional.  He  has  come  to  Aguas 
Calientes  for  the  fair,  and  just  at  present  he 
is  the  dealer  at  the  table  here  in  the  hotel ; 
that's  the 'bank'  he  goes  to  every  evening 
and  stays  at  until  three  o'clock  the  next 
morning.  And  I  don't  doubt  that  every 
word  his  wife  said  about  his  domestic  virtues 
was  the  literal  truth.  In  his  way  Mr.  Heintz- 
bach  is  a  person  of  the  utmost  respectability ; 
but — but  perhaps  when  you  see  your  friend 
again  you  might  say  something  about  our  re 
turn  to  New  York  being  a  little  uncertain ; 
and  I  don't  think  I'd  say  anything  more 
about  their  visiting  us,  if  I  were  you.  If  Mr. 
Heintzbach  were  on  Wall  Street,  now,  it 
would  be  all  right ;  but  as  his  game  isn't  in 
stocks,  it  might  be  as  well — yes,  I'm  sure  quite 
as  well — for  us  to  fight  a  little  shy  of  him. 
But  oh,  Rose,  my  angel,  what  a  delightful 
thing  this  is  that  you  have  done !  And  what 
a  perfect  howl  there  will  be  to-morrow  when 
I  tell  how  you  and  the  gambler's  wife  have 
become  sworn  friends ! " 


2/O  A   MEXICAN  CAMPAIGN. 

"  Van ! "  cried  Rose,  springing  away  from 
him  and  facing  him  with  every  sign  of  energy 
and  determination,  "if  you  ever  breathe  so 
much  as  the  first  syllable  of  this  to  anybody 
I'll— I'll  drown  myself !  " 

"  No,  don't  drown  yourself,  Rose.  Think 
how  draggled  you'd  look.  Do  it,  if  you 
really  think  you  must  do  it,  in  some  way 
that  will  be  becoming.  Why,  my  poor  little 
girl ! " — Rose  was  beginning  to  sob —  "  it's 
wicked  to  laugh  at  you,"  and  Brown  suc 
ceeded  by  an  heroic  effort  in  mastering  an 
other  outburst.  "  After  all,  it  was  a  natural 
enough  sort  of  thing  to  do  ;  and  nothing  will 
come  of  it  to  bother  you,  child,  for  we  shall 
leave  here  day  after  to-morrow,  and  of  course 
you'll  never  lay  eyes  on  the  gambler's  wife 
again;  and  I'll  never  speak  about  it  to  a 
soul,  I  give  you  my  word.  But — but  don't 
you  think  there  is  something  just  a  little  fun 
ny  in  it  all,  Rose  ?  " 

It  was  one  of  the  small  trials  of  Vandyke 
Brown's  life  that  his  wife  never  saw  the 
amusing  side  of  this  adventure.  As  for  Mrs. 


PARLEY  UNDER  FALSE   COLORS,      2? I 

Heintzbach,  she  set  down  to  the  general 
queerness  of  Americans  the  peculiarity  of 
Mrs.  Brown's  manner  when,  next  day,  she 
presented  to  that  lady  the  promised  letters 
to  her  Guanajuato  relatives.  For  while 
Rose  strove  hard  to  maintain  a  tone  of 
friendly  cordiality,  the  underlying  conscious 
ness  that  she  did  not  really  want  to  be  cordial 
and  friendly  rather  marred  the  general  result. 
Nor  was  Mrs.  Heintzbach  ever  able  to  formu 
late  a  satisfactory  hypothesis  that  would  ac 
count  for  the  fact  that,  while  the  American 
party  certainly  visited  Guanajuato,  the  let 
ters  of  introduction  as  certainly  remained 
unused. 


IV. 

THE  SKIRMISH  AT  BUENA  VISTA. 

MR.  MANGAN  BROWN  and  Mr. 
Gamboge  investigated  the  tanneries 
of  Leon  with  much  interest.  In  regard  to 
the  quality  of  the  raw-hides,  they  expressed 
entire  approval ;  but  their  strictures  upon 
the  tanning  process,  and  upon  the  product 
in  dressed  leather,  were  severe. 

"  I  am  glad  that  the  late  Mr.  Orpiment  is 
not  with  us,  Brown,"  Mr.  Gamboge  re 
marked,  with  some  feeling.  "  The  mere  sight 
of  such  sole-leather  as  we  have  been  looking 
at  this  morning  would  have  given  him  an  at 
tack  of  bilious  dyspepsia  ;  it  would,  upon  my 
word  !  I  regard  tanning  like  this,"  he  added, 
slowly  and  impressively,  "  as  positively  im 
moral.  I  am  not  at  all  surprised,  Brown — 
not  the  least  bit  in  the  world  surprised — that 


THE  SKIRMISH  AT  BUENA    VISTA.    2/3 

a  nation  that  accords  its  tacit  approval  to 
tanning  of  this  sort  is  incapable  of  achieving 
a  stable  government.  I  may  add  that  I  am 
sure  that  Mexico  will  lag  behind  all  other 
nations  in  the  march  of  progress  until  its 
leather  business  has  been  radically  remodelled 
and  reformed."  And  in  this  possibly  extreme 
opinion  Mr.  Mangan  Brown,  who  also  was 
deeply  moved  by  what  he  had  seen,  entirely 
concurred. 

But  the  rest  of  the  party,  being  blissfully 
ignorant  of  the  tanning  iniquities  of  Leon, 
were  disposed  to  think  the  bustling  little  city 
altogether  charming.  Rowney  Mauve  de 
scribed  it  happily  as  a  mixture  of  the  Bowery 
and  the  Middle  Ages ;  young  Orpiment  de 
lightedly  made  the  studies  for  his  well-known 
picture,  "A  Mexican  Calzada" — the  picture 
that  made  such  a  sensation  when  it  subse 
quently  was  exhibited  in  New  York  ;  and 
while  Brown  was  disappointed  by  his  failure 
to  discover  so  much  as  a  single  good  picture 
in  any  of  the  churches,  his  heart  was  glad 
dened  by  finding  all  around  him  a  rich  abun- 
18 


274  A   MEXICAN  CAMPAIGN. 

dance  of  material  out  of  which  good  pictures 
might  be  made. 

On  the  whole,  the  verdict  of  the  party 
already  was  strongly  in  favor  of  Mexico; 
and  after  its  several  members  had  enjoyed 
the  perfect  picturesqueness  of  Guanajuato — 
where  the  noble  paintings  by  Vallejo  in  the 
parish  church,  and  the  still  finer  work  by 
Cabrera  in  the  Compania,  suddenly  opened 
the  eyes  of  the  artists  to  the  greatness  of 
Mexican  art — this  pleasing  sentiment  ex 
panded  into  and  thereafter  remained  (with 
the  exceptions  noted  below)  one  of  unmixed 
approval. 

Mr.  Pemberton  Logan  Smith  avowedly 
pined  for  the  flesh-pots  of  Philadelphia.  "  I 
am  not  at  all  particular  about  my  food,  you 
know,  Mauve,"  he  said,  plaintively ;  "  but 
hang  it,  you  know,  I  do  like  a  solid  meal 
now  and  then  ;  and  except  at  that  queer  little 
place  at  Lagos,  where  things  certainly  were 
capital,  I'll  be  shot  if  I've  had  a  solid,  well- 
cooked  meal  since  I  came  into  Mexico." 

"  Haven't  you,  though  ?  "    Mauve   asked, 


THE  SKIRMISH  AT  BUEtfA    VISTA.    2?$ 

with  a  slight  air  of  scepticism.  "  Now,  I  was 
under  the  impression  that  I  had  seen  you 
several  times  doing  some  tolerably  serious 
pecking.  Anyhow,  you  stowed  away  enough 
at  Lagos  to  last  you  till  you  get  home 
again." 

"  Yes,"  Pern  answered,  "  I  did  have  some 
satisfactory  feeding  there.  Jove !  what  a 
heaven-born  genius  in  the  cooking  line  that 
jolly  old  Gascon  is!  And  don't  I  just  wish 
that  I  knew  where  I  could  get  as  good  a  claret 
for  as  little  money  in  Philadelphia  or  New 
York!"  And  Pern  smacked  his  lips  feelingly 
as  he  remembered  Don  Pedro's  inspiring  food 
and  drink.  But  even  sustained  by  this  cheer 
ing  memory,  it  was  not  until  he  was  come  to 
the  City  of  Mexico  and  reposed,  as  it  were,  in 
the  culinary  bosom  of  Father  Gatillon,  at  the 
Caf6  Anglais,  that  Pern  really  was  comforted. 

The  other  exception  in  the  matter  of  entire 
approval  of  Mexico  was  Mrs.  Gamboge ;  and 
the  point  of  issue  in  her  case  was  a  delicate 
one.  To  state  it  plainly,  it  was  the  bare  legs 
of  the  agricultural  laborers.  In  confidence 


2/6  A   MEXICAN  CAMPAIGN. 

she  confessed  to  Verona  that  had  she  been 
informed  of  the  custom  of  excessively  rolling 
up  their  cotton  trousers  prevalent  among  the 
lower  classes  of  male  Mexicans  she  certainly 
would  have  remained  at  home.  What  with 
this  and  the  equally  objectionable  custom 
prevalent  among  the  female  Mexicans  of  the 
lower  classes  of  insufficiently  covering  the 
upper  portions  of  their  bodies,  Mrs.  Gam 
boge  declared  that  the  average  of  dress  among 
the  lower  classes  of  Mexico  was  reduced  to  a 
point  considerably  below  that  at  which  inad 
equacy  of  apparel  became  personally  shocking 
and  morally  reprehensible.  And  all  the  way 
from  Silao  to  the  City  of  Mexico  —  which 
journey,  from  point  to  point,  was  made  by  the 
day  train — Mrs.  Gamboge  sat  retired  within 
her  prison-like  "  drawing-room,"  her  face  res 
olutely  turned  away  from  the  windows,  and 
both  the  blinds  close-drawn.  Not  even  the 
beautiful  canon  south  of  Quer£taro,  not  even 
the  extraordinary  loveliness  of  the  Tula  Val 
ley,  could  tempt  her  forth  from  the  rigid  pro 
priety  of  her  retreat. 


THE  SKIRMISH  AT  BUENA    VISTA. 

"  Either  the  railroad  company  should  take 
the  necessary  legal  measures  to  compel  these 
men  to  wear  trousers  as  they  are  intended  to 
be  worn,"  Mrs.  Gamboge  declared,  "  or  else 
it  should  build  a  high  board  fence  on  each 
side  of  the  track."  And  neither  from  this 
decided  opinion  nor  from  her  self-imposed 
seclusion  could  she  be  stirred. 

It  was  with  a  feeling  of  some  slight  relief, 
therefore,  that  Mrs.  Gamboge  found  herself, 
at  the  end  of  the  long  run  from  Queretaro, 
delivered  from  the  prominent  presence  as  a 
feature  of  the  landscape  of  unduly  bare-legged 
laborers  by  the  arrival  of  the  train  at  the 
Buena  Vista  station,  in  the  City  of  Mexico. 
She  thought  it  highly  probable  that  other 
shocks  might  here  await  her ;  but  she  had 
at  least  the  sustaining  conviction  that  the 
male  members  of  the  Mexican  lower  classes 
dwelling  in  cities  as  a  rule  kept  their  trou 
sers  rolled  down. 

As  the  party  moved  away  from  their  car 
toward  the  gates,  at  the  farther  end  of  the 
station,  they  passed  the  night  express  train 


278  A   MEXICAN  CAMPAIGN. 

that  in  a  few  minutes  would  start  for  the 
north.  A  little  group  stood  by  the  steps  of 
the  Pullman  car,  and  the  central  feature  of 
this  group  was  a  young  woman  whose  travel 
ling-dress  betokened  the  fact  that  she  was 
about  to  depart  on  the  train.  "  See  what 
stunning  eyes  she's  got,  Rose,"  Vandyke 
Brown  said,  in  a  discreetly  low  tone,  "  and 
look  how  well  she  carries  herself.  I'd  like  to 
paint  her.  She'd  make  no  end  of  an  exhibi 
tion  portrait." 

Just  at  this  moment  Violet,  who  was  a  few 
steps  ahead  of  them,  gave  a  little  shriek ;  and 
then  the  strange  young  woman  gave  a  little 
shriek;  and  then  they  rushed  into  each  other's 
arms.  Rowney,  from  whom  Violet  had  bro 
ken  away  to  engage  in  this  rather  pronounced 
exhibition  of  affection,  stood  by  placidly  until 
it  should  come  to  an  end.  He  was  accus 
tomed  to  Violet's  rather  energetic  methods, 
and  in  the  present  instance  his  only  regret 
was  that  he  was  not  in  the  running  himself. 
But  even  Rowney's  placidity  was  a  little  dis 
turbed  when  Violet,  having  detached  herself 


THE  SKIRMISH  AT  BUENA    VISTA.    2/9 

from  the  young  woman,  proceeded,  with  a 
similar  vehemence,  to  cast  herself  first  into  the 
arms  of  an  elderly  lady,  then  into  those  of  an 
elderly  gentleman,  then  into  those  of  a  mid 
dle-aged  gentleman,  and  finally  into  the  arms 
of  two  quite  young  gentlemen,  all  of  whom 
embraced  her  with  what  Rowney  considered, 
especially  upon  the  part  of  the  young  men, 
most  unnecessary  fervor,  the  while  patting 
her  vigorously  upon  the  back. 

If  Rowney  had  contemplated  lodging  a  re 
monstrance  in  regard  to  this,  from  a  New 
York  standpoint,  abnormal  exhibition  of 
friendship,  he  had  no  opportunity  to  do  so. 
Before  he  could  open  his  mouth  Violet  seized 
upon  him  and  dragged  him  into  the  midst  of 
the  little  group,  where  his  demoralization  for 
the  time  being  was  made  complete  by  finding 
himself  passed  rapidly  from  one  pair  of  arms 
to  another,  and  embraced  by  these  friendly 
strangers  with  quite  as  much  enthusiasm  as 
they  had  manifested  in  embracing  his  wife. 
During  this  confusing  experience  he  was  con 
scious  that  for  a  moment  he  was  clasped  in 


280  A   MEXICAN  CAMPAIGN. 

the  soft  arms  of  the  handsome  young  woman, 
and  realized,  as  he  remembered  his  wish  of 
but  a  moment  before,  that  the  fulfilment  of 
human  desires  is  not  necessarily  attended 
with  perfect  happiness. 

"  O  Rowney ! "  cried  Violet,  "  do  be  glad 
to  see  them ;  don't  look  so  scandalized  and 
horrified.  They  are  ever  so  glad  to  see  you. 
Don't  you  understand  ?  This  is  my  very  dear 
est,  dearest  friend,  Cdrmen  Espinosa,  and  this 
is  her  uncle,  Seflor  Antonio  Ochoa,  and  this 
is  his  younger  brother,  Seflor  Manuel  Ochoa, 
and  this  is  her  aunt,  Dona  Catalina — Don 
Antonio's  wife,  you  know — and  these  are  her 
cousins,  Rafael  and  Rodolfo.  Oh!  isn't  it 
perfectly  delightful !  And  to  think  if  our  train 
hadn't  come  in  exactly  on  time  we  should 
have  missed  them  ;  for  Carmen  and  all  of 
them  are  going  to  Guanajuato  to-night ! 
And  Violet  once  more  threw  herself  into 
her  friend  Cdrmen's  arms. 

Meanwhile  the  American  party  had  halted 
and  had  gazed  at  Violet's  demonstrative  pro 
ceedings  with  a  very  lively  astonishment,  that 


THE  SKIRMISH  AT  BURN  A    VISTA.    28 1 

became  a  less  serious  emotion  as  they  contem 
plated  the  ill  grace  with  which  Rowney  suf 
fered  himself  to  be  inducted  into  the  amica 
ble  customs  of  Mexico. 

"  Upon  my  soul,  Gamboge,"  said  Mr.  Brown 
in  some  alarm,  "  we'd  better  get  out  of  this  or 
Violet  will  be  turning  her  friends  loose  at  hug 
ging  us  too.  I  hope  that  I  should  get  through 
with  the  performance,  with  the  pretty  girl, 
anyway,  better  than  young  Mauve  did,  but 
there's  no  telling;  and,  I  must  say,  I  don't 
want  to  try."  That  Violet  would  have  intro 
duced  her  friends  is  quite  certain,  but  just  as 
she  was  about  to  begin  this  ceremony,  and 
while  Rowney  was  endeavoring  to  atone  for 
his  want  of  animation  during  the  period  of 
the  embraces  by  making  such  civil  speeches  as 
were  possible  with  the  limited  stock  of  Span 
ish  at  his  command,  the  starting-bell  sound 
ed,  and  the  Pullman  conductor  summoned 
the  party  with  a  firm  civility  to  enter  the 
train.  This  time,  greatly  to  his  relief,  Rowney 
found  that  nothing  more  than  an  ordinary 
shaking  of  hands  was  expected  of  him  ;  and 


282  A   MEXICAN  CAMPAIGN. 

as  he  knew  in  a  general  way  the  proper 
speeches  to  make  on  such  an  occasion,  he  got 
through  with  the  business  of  leave-taking  in 
fairly  creditable  form. 

"  Only  you  oughtn't  to  have  said  '  adios] 
Rowney,"  said  Violet,  correctingly.  "  That 
is  the  same  thing  as  the  French  adieu,  you 
know.  You  should  have  said  '  hasta  luegoj 
for  that  means  au  revoir ;  and  they  had  just 
told  you  that  they  would  be  back  in  the  city 
in  a  week.  It  is  dreadfully  stupid  the 
way  in  English  you  say  just  as  much  of  a 
'  good-by '  to  a  person  you  are  going  to  see 
again  in  two  hours  as  you  say  to  a  person 
who  is  just  starting  on  a  journey  around 
the  world.  But  isn't  it  lovely  that  we  met 
them  ?  And  don't  you  think,  Rowney,  that 
Cdrmen  is  the  dearest  dear  that  ever  was  ? 
It's  the  Cclrmen  I've  told  you  of  a  thousand 
times,  Rowney ;  the  one  who  was  in  the  Sis 
ters'  sehool  with  me.  If  I  were  good  at  let 
ter-writing  I  should  have  written  to  her  every 
week ;  but  I'm  not  very  good  that  way,  you 
know,  and  I  don't  believe  she  is  either,  and 


THE  SKIRMISH  AT  BUENA    VISTA.    283 

so  we've  never  heard  a  single  word  about 
each  other  in  two  years.  She  didn't  even 
know  I  was  married ;  and  when  I  said  I  was 
married  to  *  that  handsome  man  there ' — yes, 
I  did  say  that,  and  you  ought  to  be  very  much 
obliged  to  me,  Rowney — and  pointed  to 
where  you  all  were  standing,  she  actually 
thought  I  meant  Mr.  Smith  !  Wasn't  that  a 
funny  mistake  ?  Mr.  Smith  certainly  is  a 
nice-looking  man ;  but  he  is  not  so  nice-look 
ing  as  you  are,  Rowney,  even  if  I  do  say  it 
myself  and  puff  you  all  up  with  conceit.  And 
now  do  let  us  hurry  to  the  hotel.  I  know 
that  we'll  get  something  good,  and  I'm  so 
hungry  that  I  could  eat  trunk-straps  and  top- 
boots,  like  the  people  who  are  wrecked  and 
spend  forty-seven  days  in  an  open  boat  at  sea." 
And  as  Violet's  condition  of  incipient  star 
vation  was  that  of  the  whole  party — for  they 
had  breakfasted  at  one  o'clock  in  the  after 
noon  at  San  Juan  del  Rio,  and  it  was  now 
after  eight  o'clock  in  the  evening — the  move 
toward  the  Caf6  Anglais  and  dinner  was 
made  with  the  least  possible  delay. 


284  A  MEXICAN  CAMPAIGN. 

Pern  sat  next  to  Violet  at  dinner,  and  be 
fore  she  had  swallowed  her  soup  he  began  to 
ask  rather  pointed  questions  about  her  charm 
ing  Mexican  friend. 

"  Now,  I  tell  you  frankly,  Mr.  Smith,"  Vio 
let  declared  with  much  positiveness,  "  that 
until  I  have  had  something  to  eat  I  shall  not 
say  a  single  word.  I  have  a  perfectly  clear 
conscience,  and  that  means,  of  course,  that 
I've  got  a  good  appetite ;  and  I  have.  If 
you've  got  a  bad  conscience,  and  consequent 
ly  a  bad  appetite,  that's  no  fault  of  mine ; 
and  I  don't  intend  to  suffer  for  your  sins.  So, 
there!" 

But  even  when  Violet,  having  satisfied  the 
cravings  of  hunger,  was  disposed  to  be  com 
municative  concerning  her  friend,  her  commu 
nication  was  eulogistic  rather  than  informing. 
Beyond  the  fact  that  Carmen  Espinosa  be 
longed  to  very  nice  people  whose  home  was 
an  hacienda  up  in  the  Bajio,  she  had  very  lit 
tle  to  tell.  They  had  been  together  in  the 
school  of  the  Sagrado  Corazon  for  two  years. 
Then  Violet  had  gone  back  to  her  father's 


THE  SKIRMISH  AT  BUENA    VISTA.    285 

hacienda  in  Michoacan ;  and  a  year  later  had 
gone  on  her  expedition  to  New  York,  that 
had  ended  in  keeping  her  there  as  the  wife 
of  Rowney  Mauve.  A  letter  or  two  during 
the  first  six  months  after  their  separation  had 
been  their  only  attempt  at  correspondence. 
Of  her  friend's  life  during  the  past  two  and 
a  half  years  she  knew  nothing.  But  she  was 
the  best  and  sweetest  and  dearest  girl  that 
ever  lived — and  so  on,  and  so  on. 

Pern  was  silent  as  he  sat  smoking  with  the 
other  men  over  their  coffee,  after  the  ladies 
had  retired  up  the  corkscrew  staircase  to 
their  rooms.  There  was  some  talk  among 
the  artists  about  the  work  that  they  intended 
doing ;  and  presently  Pern  roused  up  and 
said  : 

"  Well,  I'll  tell  you  what  I'm  going  to  do. 
I'm  going  to  Guanajuato  to  paint  that  view  of 
the  Bufa  from  up  by  the  highest  of  the  flresas. 
It's  the  finest  thing  I've  seen  in  Mexico,  and 
I  mean  to  get  it.  I'm  going  to-morrow." 

There  was  a  stir  of  astonishment  at  this 
outburst  of  vigor  on  the  part  of  Mr.  Smith, 


286  A   MEXICAN  CAMPAIGN. 

and  his  announcement  was  met,  not  unnatu 
rally,  with  comment  tending  toward  skepti 
cal  criticism. 

"  I  did  think  that  you  was  resolved,  Mr. 
Smeeth,  not  to  touch  one  brush  while  in 
thees  land,"  said  Jaune  d'Antimoine,  seri 
ously. 

"  And  so  did  I,"  added  Brown.  "  What's 
got  into  you,  old  man,  to  break  down  your 
virtuous  resolution  to  be  lazier  than  usual  ?  " 

"  Look  here,  my  dear  fellow,"  Rowney 
Mauve  put  in,  "  I'd  like  to  know  what's  to 
become  of  me  if  you  take  to  working  ?  Don't 
you  see  that  I  rely  on  you  for  moral  support  ? 
But  you  don't  mean  it,  I'm  sure." 

"  I  do  mean  it,  and  I  tell  you  I'm  going 
to-morrow.  I've  always  meant  to  take  home 
one  picture  from  Mexico  ;  at  least  I've  always 
rather  thought  I  would.  And  the  more  I 
think  about  that  view  of  the  Bufa,  the  more 
I'm  determined  that  that  shall  be  what  I'll 
paint." 

Pern  had  been  known  to  make  resolutions 
of  this  sort  before  without  "any  very  startling 


THE  SKIRMISH  AT  BUENA    VISTA.    28? 

practical  results  ensuing,  and  not  much  faith 
\vas  placed  by  anybody  in  his  stout  assertion. 
But  faith  was  compelled,  early  the  next  even 
ing,  when  he  stated  that  he  was  about  to  have 
an  early  dinner  in  order  to  catch  the  north 
bound  train,  and  then  bade  everybody  good- 
by.  And  off  he  went,  with  the  parting  shot 
from  Brown  that  Saul  among  the  prophets 
wasn't  a  touch  to  him. 

In  the  privacy  of  their  respective  chambers 
that  night  Brown  and  Mauve  expressed  to 
their  respective  wives  their  astonishment  at 
this  extraordinary  manifestation  of  energy  on 
the  part  of  their  Philadelphia  friend. 

Rose  smiled  in  a  superior  way  and  said : 
"  Really,  Van,  I  sometimes  think  that  you  are 
about  as  stupid  as  even  a  man  can  be  !  Why, 
don't  you  see  that  Mr.  Smith  has  gone  after 
that  pretty  Mexican  girl  ?  " 

And  Violet,  in  response  to  very  similar  ut 
terances  on  the  part  of  Rowney  Mauve,  very 
similarly  replied :  "  What  a  thick-headed 
creature  you  are,  Rowney.  Mr.  Smith  has 
gone  after  Cdrmen,  of  course.  I  knew  what 


288  A   MEXICAN"  CAMPAIGN. 

he  was  up  to  at  once,  and  I  thought  I'd  help 
him  a  little,  and  so  I — I  asked  him  if  it 
would  be  too  much  trouble,  since  he  was  go 
ing  to  Guanajuato  anyway,  to  take  a  letter 
from  me  to  my  friend.  And  you  just  ought 
to  have  seen  how  very  grateful  the  poor  fel 
low  was  !  But  you  mustn't  tell,  Rowney ;  that 
wouldn't  be  the  square  thing." 


V. 

THE  AFFAIR  OF  MOLINO  DEL  KEY. 

MR.  PEMBERTON  LOGAN  SMITH 
returned  from  Guanajuato  five  or  six 
days  later,  bringing  his  sheaves  with  him. 
But  his  sheaves  did  not  amount  to  much. 

He  arrived  from  the  railway  station  in 
time  to  join  the  party  at  dinner ;  and  al 
though  dining  was  about  at  an  end,  they 
all  waited  while  he  ate  his  dinner  and  at  the 
same  time  gave  an  account  of  himself. 

"  What  a  blessing  it  is  again  to  get  some 
thing  to  eat,"  he  observed  with  much  sat 
isfaction  as  Gilberto — "  the  best  waiter  I 
ever  came  across  anywhere,"  Mr.  Gamboge 
had  declared  approvingly — took  away  his 
empty  soup-plate  and  filled  his  glass  from  a 
bottle  of  Father  Gatillon's  sound  Bordeaux. 
"  I  stayed  at  Dofia  Maria's,  of  course,  and  the 
19 


29O  A   MEXICAN  CAMPAIGN: 

old  lady  did  her  best  for  me,  I  know — but 
even  her  best  didn't  amount  to  much ;  and 
I've  been  getting  hungrier  and  hungrier  every 
day." 

"  And  how  about  the  picture  ? "  Brown 
asked.  "  You  must  have  made  pretty  quick 
work  of  it  to  get  anything  done  in  this  time." 

"  Oh,  the  picture !  Yes,  I'd  forgotten 
about  that.  You  see,  when  I  saw  the  Bufa 
again  I  concluded  that  it  was  too  much  for 
me.  It  wants  a  bigger  man,  you  know — 
somebody  like  Orpiment.  You  really  ought 
to  go  up  and  paint  it,  Orpiment ;  it's  a  won 
derful  thing."  This  pleased  Verona,  of 
course.  She  highly  approved  of  anything 
in  the  shape  of  an  acknowledgment  of  her 
husband's  superiority. 

"That's  all  very  well,"  said  Orpiment; 
"  but  if  you  haven't  been  painting  the  Bufa, 
what  have  you  been  doing  ?  And  what's 
gone  with  all  your  virtuous  resolutions  ?  " 

"Well,  you  see,  we  didn't  half  do  up 
Guanajuato — it's  a  wonderful  place;  I  think 
it's  the  most  picturesque  place  I  ever  saw. 


THE  AFFAIR   OF  MOLINO  DEL  REY.    2QI 

I've  been  investigating  it.  I  found  some 
more  pictures,  for  one  thing.  There's  a 
tremendously  good  '  Cena  de  San  Francisco,' 
that  we  never  saw  at  all,  in  the  sacristy  of 
that  little  church  just  across  the  street  from 
Dofta  Maria's.  And  I  went  out  to  the  Val- 
enciana  mine,  and  there  is  one  of  the  most 
beautiful  churrigueresque  church  interiors 
out  there  that  I  ever  laid  eyes  on :  and  we 
missed  that,  too,  you  know.  There  was  lots 
to  do  without  painting.  I  could  have  put 
in  another  week  easily." 

"  Did  you  see  anything  of  the  Espinosas  ?  " 
Violet  asked,  with  a  fine  air  of  innocent  curi 
osity. 

"  The  Espinosas  ?  Oh,  yes,  I  saw  them. 
In  fact  I — as  it  happened,  I  saw  a  good  deal 
of  them,"  Pern  answered,  in  some  slight  con 
fusion.  "  Yes,  they  were  very  civil  to  me," 
he  continued.  "  You  see  I  had  to  present 
the  letter  that  you  sent,  Mrs.  Mauve;  and 
when  they  found  that  I  had  missed  so  much 
that  is  worth  seeing  in  Guanajuato  they 
took  me  in  hand  in  the  kindest  way 


292  A   MEXICAN  CAMPAIGN. 

showed  me  everything.  It  was  ever  so  nice 
of  them.  And — and  we  happened  to  come 
down  together  on  the  same  train.  You  see, 
I  found  it  was  quite  hopeless  to  try  to  paint 
the  Bufa,  and  as  they  were  coming  down  I 
thought  I'd  come  down  too.  What  a  nice 
old  lady  the  Seflora  Espinosa  is,  and  Don 
Antonio  is  delightful.  I've  rarely  met  such 
pleasant  people." 

"  And  how  about  the  pretty  girl  ? " 
Brown  struck  in,  although  Rose  tried  to  stop 
him  by  pinching  him. 

"  It's  never  any  good  to  pinch  me,  Rose," 
Brown  explained,  when  his  conduct  subse 
quently  was  criticised.  "  Half  the  time  I 
don't  know  what  I'm  pinched  for,  and  it 
only  makes  me  get  my  back  up ;  and  the 
other  half  you  don't  get  in  your  pinch  until 
I've  said  what  you  don't  want  me  to  say. 
If  I  were  you  I'd  stop  it." 

"  But,  Van,  indeed  it  was  very  unkind  in 
you  to  speak  that  way  to-night.  Don't  you 
see  that  Mr.  Smith  is  quite  seriously  inter 
ested  in  this  sweet  young  girl ;  and  just 


THE  AFFAIR   OF  MOLINO  DEL  REY.    293 

suppose  you  were  to  make  him  so  uncom 
fortable  that  he  should  break  it  all  off  before 
it's  fairly-  begun.  Don't  do  anything  like 
that  again,  I  beg  of  you." 

"  For  so  young  a  woman,  Rose,  your 
match-making  proclivities  are  quite  remark 
able.  How  do  you  know  that  this  Mex 
ican  girl  is  '  sweet '  ?  Remember  your  gam 
bling  friend  at  Aguas  Calientes,  and  don't 
be  precipitate,  my  dear  "  (this  was  an  unfair 
allusion  on  Brown's  part,  and  he  had  to 
apologize  for  it).  "  After  all,  though,  you 
must  admit  that  Smith  didn't  seem  to  be 
very  badly  knocked  out  by  my  shot  at  him." 

This  was  quite  true,  for  Pern  had  expected 
some  such  question,  and,  being  ready  for  it, 
he  answered  with  a  very  fair  degree  of  com 
posure  :  "You  mean  the  Seftora  Carillo.  She 
is  charming,  of  course.  I  don't  believe  that 
you  know,  Mrs.  Mauve,"  he  added,  turning 
to  Violet,  "  that  your  friend  is  a  widow  ?  " 

"  Oh,  how  perfectly  delightful ! "  cried 
Violet.  Then,  seeing  that  Rose,  Verona,  and 
Mrs.  Gamboge  all  looked  shocked,  she  added: 


294  A   MEXICAN  CAMPAIGN. 

"  Of  course  I  don't  mean  that  it  is  delightful 
to  have  peoples'  husbands  die,  or  anything 
like  that,  you  know.  But  after  they  are 
dead,  in  this  part  of  the  world  at  least,  it's 
delightful  to  be  a  widow.  A  Mexican  young 
girl  might  just  as  well  be  a — a  humming-top, 
for  all  the  good  she  has  of  anything,  you  see. 
But  as  soon  as  she's  a  widow  she  can  go  any 
where  and  do  anything  she  pleases,  and  have 
nobody  bothering  at  her  at  all.  It's  better 
than  being  a  young  girl  in  the  States,  ever  so 
much.  And  so  Cdrmen's  a  widow.  Just 
think  of  it !  And  I  didn't  even  know  that 
she  had  been  married.  She's  got  ever  so  far 
ahead  of  me,  hasn't  she,  Rowney  ?  And  I 
thought  that  I  was  ahead  of  her.  It's  too 
bad  !  But  who  did  she  marry,  Mr.  Smith  ? 
And  when  did  he  die  ?  Do  tell  me  all  about 
it,  please." 

And  Pern  explained  that  the  Seflorita  Es- 
pinosa  had  been  married  about  a  year  after 
the  time  that  she  had  left  school,  and  that 
her  husband  had  died  suddenly  within  two 
or  three  months  of  their  marriage.  "  I  don't 


THE  AFFAIR    OF  MOLINO  DEL  REY.    2$$ 

believe  it  was  quite  a  heart-breaking  affair," 
Pern  added.  "  Her  cousin,  Rodolfo,  you 
know,  told  me  that  old  Don  Ignacio  was  a 
grouty  old  fellow,  and  that  the  marriage  had 
been  made  up  mainly  because  his  hacienda 
adjoined  her  father's,  and  there  was  some 
row  about  the  water-rights  which  had  been 
going  on  for  years  and  which  they  succeeded 
this  way  in  compromising.  Rodolfo  was 
very  indignant  about  the  whole  business,  and 
I'm  sure  I  don't  wonder.  Do  they  do  much 
of  that  sort  of  thing  down  here,  Mrs.  Mauve  ? 
It's  like  a  bit  out  of  the  dark  ages." 

"  But  think  how  happy  she  is  now,  Mr. 
Smith,"  said  the  practical  Violet ;  "  and  think 
what  a  good  thing  it  is  to  have  the  matter 
about  the  water  settled  so  nicely.  You  don't 
know  how  important  it  is  to  get  a  thing  like 
that  settled.  I  remember  papa  and  another 
man  had  a  bad  shooting  match  about  a  water- 
right  once ;  and  papa  would  have  been  killed, 
everybody  said,  if  he  hadn't  been  too  quick 
for  the  other  man  and  got  the  drop  on  him. 
And  it  cost  papa  ever  so  much  to  square 


296  A   MEXICAN  CAMPAIGN. 

things  after  he'd  killed  the  other  man ;  for 
the  judges  knew  that  papa  was  rich  and  they 
made  him  pay  like  anything.  I'm  very  glad 
for  Cdrmen's  sake  that  she  was  able  to  do 
her  father  such  a  good  turn ;  and  she  must  be 
glad  too — especially  now  that  it's  all  well 
over  and  she  is  a  comfortable  widow.  And 
you  say  that  they  all  came  down  with  you 
to-night  ?  " 

"Yes,  and  they  sent  word  that  they  are 
coming  in  a  body  to  call  on  all  of  us  to 
morrow — that's  the  Mexican  way,  I  believe. 
And  they  have  a  plan  on  foot  for  a  picnic,  or 
something  of  that  sort,  for  us  at  Seflor  Espi- 
nosa's  place  out  at  Tacubaya " 

"  Oh,  in  that  lovely  garden !  I  used  to  go 
out  there  with  Cdrmen  sometimes  on  Sun 
days  while  I  was  at  the  convent.  It's  per 
fectly  delightful ! " 

"  Yes,  I  fancy  from  what  they  said  about 
it  that  it  must  be  rather  a  nice  place.  And 
after  the  lunch,  or  breakfast,  or  whatever  they 
call  it,  we're  to  walk  across  and  see  the  view 
of  the  valley  from  a  place  that  they  say  is 


THE  AFFAIR    OF  MOLINO  DEL  REY.    297 

very  nice — it's  upon  a  hillside  above  the 
Molino  del  Rey;  just  where  the  battle  was 
fought  in  1847,  Don  Antonio  said.  Really, 
Mrs.  Mauve,  we  all  owe  a  great  deal  to  you 
for  putting  us  in  the  way  of  seeing  Mexican 
life  from  the  inside." 

This  view  of  the  indebtedness  of  the  Amer 
ican  party  to  the  Spanish-American  member 
became  general  two  days  later,  when  they  all 
were  conveyed  to  Tacubaya  by  Don  Antonio 
in  a  special  tram-car,  and  were  given  a  break 
fast  in  his  beautiful  huerta  that  quite  aston 
ished  them.  That  Pern  approved  of  the 
food,  Philadelphia!!  though  he  was,  did  not, 
under  the  circumstances,  count  for  much ; 
but  the  hearty  indorsement  of  Mexican  cook 
ing  on  the  part  of  Mr.  Gamboge  and  Mr. 
Mangan  Brown,  neither  of  whom  regarded 
such  matters  lightly,  and  whose  judgment 
was  not  biassed  by  any  sudden  yielding  to  the 
tender  emotions,  counted  for  a  good  deal. 
It  was  while  they  were  returning  to  the  city 
that  Mr.  Gamboge,  after  a  long,  thoughtful 
silence,  thus  spoke : 


298  A   MEXICAN  CAMPAIGN. 

"  Brown,  I  shall  remember  that  dish  of 
mole — I  have  learned  the  name  of  it  carefully, 
you  see — until  my  dying  day." 

And  Mr.  Mangan  Brown  briefly  but  feel 
ingly  replied  :  "  And  so  shall  I." 

As  for  Rose,  she  declared  that  she  must 
be  asleep  and  had  dreamed  herself  into  a 
Watteau  landscape ;  for  such  a  garden  as  this 
was,  as  she  lucidly  explained,  she  believed 
could  have  no  existence  outside  of  a  picture 
that  was  inside  of  a  dream. 

Mrs.  Gamboge,  whose  tendency  was  to 
ward  the  sentimental,  wished  Mr.  Gamboge 
to  come  and  sit  beside  her  on  the  grass,  be 
neath  a  tree  near  the  little  brook.  And  her 
feelings  were  rather  hurt  because  Mr.  Gam 
boge  declined  to  fall  in  with  her  romantic 
fancy,  on  the  ground  that  sitting  on  the 
grass  certainly  would  give  them  both  rheu 
matism.  And  he  didn't  mend  matters  by 
adding  that  he  would  have  been  very  glad 
to  please  her  had  they  only  thought  to  bring 
along  a  gum-blanket. 

But  quite  the  happiest   member  of  this 


THE  AFFAIR    OF  MO  LINO  DEL  REY.    299 

exceptionally  happy  party  was  Mr.  Pember- 
ton  Logan  Smith ;  for  this  young  man,  while 
he  was  not  as  yet  exactly  in  love,  had  made 
a  very  fair  start  into  the  illusions  and  en 
tanglements  of  that  tender  passion.  During 
the  four  or  five  days  at  Guanajuato  his  inter 
course  with  the  Seflora  Carillo  had  been 
hampered  by  the  formalities  attending  new 
acquaintanceship,  and  especially  by  the  rule 
of  Mexican  etiquette  that  throws  the  enter 
tainment  of  a  guest  upon  the  oldest  lady  of 
the  household.  His  eyes  had  been  very 
steadily  in  the  service  of  the  pretty  widow ; 
but  his  ears,  and  so  much  of  his  tongue  as 
the  circumstances  of  the  case  required — which 
was  not  much,  for  Dofla  Catalina  was  a  great 
talker — necessarily  were  employed  in  the 
service  of  her  aunt. 

But  on  the  present  occasion  Dofla  Catalina 
naturally  devoted  herself  more  especially  to 
Mrs.  Gamboge  and  the  two  elderly  gentle 
men — Violet,  rather  against  her  will,  serving 
as  interpreter — and  this  left  Pern  free  to  fol 
low  his  own  inclinations.  It  was  the  first  fair 


juO  A  MEXICAN  CAMPAIGN". 

chance  that  he  had  had,  and  he  made  the 
most  of  it.  A  further  fortunate  fact  in  his 
favor  was  that  he  was  the  only  man  of  the 
American  party — except  Jaune  d'Antimoine, 
who  was  busily  employed  as  interpreter 
between  his  wife,  Rose,  Verona,  and  the 
Mexican  young  gentlemen — who  possessed  a 
colloquial  command  of  Spanish.  How  Pern 
did  bless  his  lucky  stars  now  that,  being 
overtaken  by  a  mood  of  unwonted  energy,  he 
had  had  the  resolution  to  grind  away  so 
steadily  under  that  stuffy  old  professor  dur 
ing  his  winter  in  Granada  ! 

So,  without  much  difficulty,  he  contrived 
to  keep  close  to  the  widow  all  day — much 
to  his  own  enjoyment,  and,  apparently,  not 
to  her  distaste.  She  was  not  like  any  of  the 
women  whom  he  had  known  in  Spain — 
where,  to  be  sure,  his  opportunities  for  any 
save  most  formal  acquaintance  had  been  very 
limited ;  and  she  certainly  was  unlike  her 
own  countryfolk.  Even  in  her  lightest  talk 
there  was  an  air  about  her  of  preoccupation, 
of  reserve,  that  was  in  too  marked  contrast 


THE  AFFAIR    OF  MO  LI  NO  DEL  REY.    30 1 

with  Dona  Catalina's  very  cheerful  frankness 
to  be  accounted  for  merely  on  the  ground  of 
the  difference  between  youth  and  age ;  and 
that,  so  far  as  his  observation  had  gone,  was 
not  by  any  means  characteristic  of  Mexican 
women  either  old  or  young.  And  from  the 
obscurity  of  this  reserve  she  had  a  way,  he 
found,  of  flashing  out  rather  brilliantly  turned 
expressions  of  decidedly  original  thought. 
When  she  accompanied  these  utterances,  as 
she  sometimes  did,  with  a  little  curl  of  her 
finely  cut  red  lips,  and  with  a  quick  glance 
from  her  dark-brown  eyes — not  tender  eyes, 
yet  eyes  which  somehow  suggested  possibili 
ties  of  tenderness — he  found  that  her  sayings, 
if  not  increased  in  point,  certainly  gained  in 
effectiveness.  Altogether,  Mr.  Smith  was 
disposed  to  regard  the  Seftora  Carillo  as  a 
decidedly  interesting  subject  for  attentive 
study. 

Naturally,  since  they  had  been  so  much  to 
gether  during  the  day,  Pern  was  the  widow's 
escort  when  they  all  set  out,  in  late  after 
noon,  to  walk  to  the  point  of  view  that  Don 


3O2  A   MEXICAN  CAMPAIGN. 

Antonio,  as  he  expressed  it,  would  have  the 
honor  to  bring  to  their  notice.  It  was  a  des 
perately  dusty  walk,  and  the  American  la 
dies — who  had  donned  raiment  of  price  for 
the  occasion — contemplated  the  defilement 
of  their  gowns  in  anything  but  a  contented 
spirit.  They  beheld  with  wonder  the  calm 
ness  with  which  their  Mexican  sisters — who 
were  equally  well  dressed,  though  in  the  style 
that  would  obtain  in  New  York  during  the 
ensuing  season — made  no  effort  whatever  to 
preserve  their  garments  from  contamination. 
"  That  gros-grain  of  Mrs.  Espinosa's  will  be 
absolutely  ruined,  Rose,"  Mrs.  Gamboge  de 
clared,  speaking  in  the  suppressed  voice  that 
most  people  seem  to  consider  necessary  when 
airing  their  private  sentiments  in  the  presence 
of  other  people  who  do  not  understand  a 
word  of  the  language  in  which  the  private 
sentiments  are  expressed.  "  Mine  is  bad 
enough,  though  I'm  doing  everything  I  can 
think  of  to  save  it.  Do  just  drop  behind  me 
a  little  and  see  if  I'm  making  a  very  shock 
ing  exhibition  of  my  ankles.  I'm  afraid  that 


THE  AFFAIR   OF  MOLINO  DEL  REY.    303 

I  am,  but  I  really  can't  help  it.  These  Mexi 
can  ladies  seem  to  think  no  more  of  getting 
dusty  than  if  they  all  were  dressed  in  calico. 
I  can't  understand  it  at  all." 

The  Seflora  Carillo  certainly  paid  no  atten 
tion  whatever  to  the  increasing  dustiness  of 
her  gown.  Her  early  venture  in  matrimony 
had  not  been  of  an  encouraging  sort,  and 
since  she  had  come  into  her  estate  of  widow 
hood  her  tendency — as  Violet  in  her  free  but 
expressive  southwestern  vernacular  probably 
would  have  stated  the  case — was  to  "stand 
off"  mankind  generally.  It  was  a  surprise  to 
herself  when  she  discovered  that  so  far  from 
rinding  this  good-looking  young  Americano 
repulsive,  she  positively  was  attracted  by 
him.  For  one  thing,  he  struck  her  as  differ 
ing  in  many  ways  from  her  own  countrymen  ; 
and  she  had  an  instinctive  feeling  that  the 
unlikeness  was  not  merely  superficial.  She 
was  sure  that  his  scheme  of  life  was  a  larger, 
broader  scheme  than  that  which  she  had 
known,  and  there  was  a  genuineness  in  his 
deference  to  her  as  a  woman  that  contrasted 


304  A   MEXICAN  CAMPAIGN. 

both  forcibly  and  favorably  with  certain  of 
her  past  experiences. 

In  point  of  fact  this  Mexican  young  woman 
had  begun  life  by  being  a  little  out  of  harmony 
with  her  environment.  She  did  not  know 
very  clearly  what  she  wanted,  but  she  knew 
that  it  was  something  quite  different  from  that 
which  she  had.  It  was  this  feeling  that  had 
led  her  to  select  Violet  Carmine  for  a  close 
friend.  She  was  not  at  all  in  sympathy  with 
Violet's  most  radical  tendencies;  but  she 
found  in  Violet  a  person,  the  only  person, 
who  was  not  shocked  when  she  stated  some 
of  her  own  small  convictions  as  to  what  a 
woman's  life  might  be.  Even  to  this  friend 
she  had  not  told  that  it  was  her  hope,  should 
she  ever  marry,  to  be  the  companion  of  her 
husband — not  merely  his  handmaiden,  in  the 
scriptural  sense.  And  she  was  glad  now  that 
she  had  been  thus  reticent,  for  her  hope  by  no 
means  had  been  realized. 

After  that  very  disillusioning  venture  into 
the  holy  estate  of  matrimony,  this  poor  Car 
men  found  herself  entirely  at  odds  with  her- 


THE  AFFAIR   OF  MOLINO  DEL  KEY.    30$ 

self  and  with  the  world.  Had  she  lived  a 
generation  earlier  she  would  have  become  a 
nun.  It  was  a  subject  of  sincere  sorrow  to 
her  that  nunneries  had  been  abolished  in  Mex 
ico  by  the  Laws  of  the  Reform. 

It  was  only  natural  that  there  should  be  a 
certain  feeling  of  pleasure  mixed  with  her  feel 
ing  of  astonishment  at  her  present  discovery 
of  a  man  for  whom  she  had  at  once  both 
liking  and  respect.  It  was  agreeable,  she 
thought,  to  find  that  there  really  was  such  a 
man  in  the  world.  But  beyond  this  very  gen 
eral  view  of  the  situation  her  thoughts  did 
not  go.  It  made  very  little  difference  to  her, 
one  way  or  the  other,  this  discovery.  The 
man  was  a  foreigner,  and  an  American  at  that 
— and  Carmen  had  a  good  strong  race  hatred 
for  the  Americans  of  the  North — come  into 
her  country  only  for  a  little  while.  Presently 
he  would  go  home  again  ;  and  that,  so  far  as 
she  was  concerned,  would  be  the  end  of 
him.  In  the  meantime  she  would  please 
herself  by  studying  this  new  specimen  of 
male  humanity.  It  was  well  to  hold  con- 

20 


306          A  MEXICAN  CAMPAIGN. 

verse  with  a  foreigner,  she  thought ;  it  en 
larged  one's  mind. 

So,  lagging  a  little  behind  the  rest  of  the 
party,  and  chatting  in  a  manner  somewhat 
light  to  be  productive  of  any  very  marked 
mental  improvement,  they  walked  westward 
through  the  straggling  streets  of  Tacubaya 
— past  low  houses  with  great  barred  windows, 
past  high-walled  gardens,  the  loveliness  of 
which  was  only  hinted  at  by  outhanging 
trees  and  climbing  vines  and  by  the  glimpse 
in  passing  to  be  had  through  the  iron  gates 
— over  to  and  out  upon  the  hillside  above 
the  Molino  del  Rey.  They  stopped  beside 
the  little  pyramidal  monument  that  com 
memorates  the  battle.  The  rest  of  the  par 
ty  had  gone  on  a  few  rods  farther ;  for  Don 
Antonio,  with  true  Mexican  courtesy,  had 
acted  upon  his  instinctive  conviction  that  be 
side  this  monument  was  not  a  place  where 
a  party  of  right-thinking  Americans  would 
care  to  halt. 

Below  them,  embowered  in  trees,  was  the 
old  Mill  of  the  King  that  Worth's  forces  car- 


THE  AFFAIR    OF  MO  LI  NO  DEL  REY.    307 

ried  that  September  day  forty  years  ago ;  be 
yond  rose  the  wooded,  castle-crowned  height 
of  Chapultepec;  still  farther  away  were  the 
towers  and  glistening  domes  of  the  city  and 
the  great  shimmering  lakes,  and  for  back 
ground  rose  the  blue-gray  mountains  above 
Guadalupe  in  the  north.  To  the  east,  over 
across  Lake  Chalco,  towered  the  great  snow- 
peaks  of  the  volcanoes. 

"  Upon  my  soul,  I  wish  I  had  been  born  a 
Mexican,"  said  Pern,  drawing  a  long  breath. 

"  Because  the  Mexicans  happen  to  be  pos 
sessors  of  a  fine  landscape  ?  That  is  not  a 
good  reason.  There  are  better  things  for  a 
people  to  have  than  landscapes,  Sefior ;  and 
some  of  these  better  things,  if  I  am  rightly 
told,  your  people  have." 

"  It  is  possible — but  at  present  I  cannot  re 
call  them  to  my  mind.  Just  now  I  can  think 
of  nothing  finer  than  this  view — excepting 
the  happy  fact  that  the  Seflorita  has  done 
me  the  honor  to  lead  me  to  it." 

"  I  could  wish  that  you  would  not  speak  in 
that  fanciful  manner.  It  is  in  the  custom  of 


308  A   MEXICAN  CAMPAIGN. 

my  own  country,  and  I  do  not  like  it.  I  have 
been  told  that  the  Americans  do  not  make  fine 
speeches,  and  I  shall  be  glad  to  know  that  it 
is  so." 

Pern  was  rather  taken  aback  by  this  frank 
statement  of  very  un- Mexican  sentiment. 

"  The  Seflorita,  then,  does  not  approve  of 
the  customs  of  her  own  people,  and  is  pleased 
to  like  the  Americans  ?  For  the  compliment 
to  my  countrymen  I  give  to  the  Sefiorita  my 
thanks." 

"  I  do  not  like  your  countrymen.  I  hate 
them." 

"  And  why  ?  " 

"  Is  not  this  an  answer  ?"  Cdrmen  replied, 
laying  her  hand  upon  the  battle  monument. 

Pern  felt  himself  to  be  in  an  awkward  cor 
ner,  for  the  position  that  his  Mexican  friend 
had  taken — while  not,  perhaps,  in  the  very 
best  of  taste — was  quite  unassailable.  As  he 
rather  stupidly  stared  at  the  ugly  little  monu 
ment,  thus  pointedly  brought  to  his  notice, 
he  felt  that  it  did  indeed  represent  an  act  of 
unjust  aggression  that  very  well  might  make 


THE  AFFAIR    OF  MOLINO  DEL  REY.    309 

Mexicans  hate  Americans  for  a  thousand 
years. 

"  As  to  the  customs  of  my  countrymen," 
Carmen  continued,  perceiving  that  the  partic 
ular  American  before  her  was  very  much  em 
barrassed,  and  politely  wishing  to  extricate 
him  from  the  trying  position  that,  not  very 
politely,  she  had  placed  him  in,  "  some  of 
them  are  very  well.  But  this  of  making  fine 
speeches  to  women  is  not  well  at  all.  Do  the 
men  have  this  foolish  custom  in  your  land, 
or  is  it  only  that  while  in  Mexico  you  wish 
to  do  what  is  done  here  ?  " 

It  was  a  relief  to  have  the  subject  changed 
in  any  way,  but  the  new  topic  was  one  not 
altogether  free  from  difficulties.  Mr.  Smith 
never  before  had  been  called  upon  to  defend 
the  utterance  of  a  small  gallantry  upon  ethi 
cal  and  ethnological  grounds ;  still  less  to 
treat  the  matter  from  the  standpoint  of  com 
parative  nationalities. 

"  It  is  my  impression  that  I  have  heard  of 
handsome  speeches  being  made  upon  occasion 
by  American  men  to  American  women,"  he 


3IO  A   MEXICAN  CAMPAIGN. 

replied.  "  Yes,  I  believe  that  I  am  justified 
in  saying  positively  that  speeches  of  this  sort 
among  us  may  be  said  to  be  quite  every-day 
affairs.  May  I  ask  why  the  Seftorita  objects 
to  them  ?  They  strike  me  as  being  harmless, 
to  say  the  least." 

"  They  are  idle  and  silly.  It  is  the  same 
talk  that  one  would  give  to  a  cat.  I  do  not 
know  why  a  woman  should  be  talked  to  as 
though  she  had  nothing  of  sense.  It  is  true, 
she  cannot  know  as  much  as  a  man  ;  but  she 
may  ask  to  have  it  believed  that  she  knows 
more  than  a  cat,  and  still  not  claim  to  be  very 
wise.  And  so,  if  the  Seftor  will  permit 
the  request,  I  will  beg  that  he  will  keep  his 
handsome  speeches  for  those  who  like  them 
and  that  he  will  say  none  to  me  at  all. 

"  See,  our  friends  are  coming  toward  us, 
and  we  will  go  back  to  the  town.  And  the 
Seftor  will  pardon  me  if  I  have  been  rude.  I 
should  not  have  said  what  I  did  about  Ameri 
cans.  I  find  now  that  they  are  not  all  bad." 
There  was  more  in  the  look  that  accompanied 
this  utterance  than  there  was  in  the  words. 


THE  AFFAIR    OF  MO  LINO  DEL  REY.    311 

"  I  have  not  had  a  very  happy  life,  and 
sometimes,  they  tell  me,  I  forget  to  be  con 
siderate  of  others  and  am  unkind.  But  I 
have  not  meant  to  be  unkind  to-day." 

The  last  portion  of  Carmen's  speech  was 
hurried,  for  the  party  was  close  upon  them, 
and  they  all  were  together  again  before  Pern 
could  reply. 

Nor  did  he  have  another  chance  to  continue 
this,  as  he  had  found  it,  notwithstanding  the 
awkward  turns  that  it  had  taken,  very  inter 
esting  conversation.  Carmen  stuck  close  to 
her  aunt,  and  was  almost  silent,  as  they  walked 
back  to  the  garden ;  and  she  contrived,  as 
they  returned  by  the  tramway  to  the  city,  to 
seat  herself  quite  away  from  him  in  the  car. 

Since  she  so  obviously  had  no  desire  to 
speak  further,  Pern  felt  that  he  would  be 
pleasing  her  best  by  engaging  the  estimable 
Dofla  Catalina  in  lively  talk.  This  was  not 
a  difficult  feat,  for  Dofla  Catalina  was  a  mir 
acle  of  good-natured  loquacity,  who,  in  default 
of  anything  better  to  wag  her  tongue  at,  no 
doubt  would  have  talked  with  much  anima- 


312  A   MEXICAN  CAMPAIGN. 

tion  to  her  shoes.  In  view  of  the  fact  that  he 
scarcely  had  been  able  to  get  in  a  word  edge 
wise,  he  was  rather  tickled  when  this  admi 
rable  woman,  at  parting,  commended  him 
warmly  for  having  so  well  mastered  the  Span 
ish  tongue.  Pern  ventured,  at  this  juncture, 
to  cast  a  very  slightly  quizzical  look  at  Car 
men,  and  was  both  surprised  and  delighted 
by  finding  that  his  look  was  returned  in  kind. 
"A  Mexican  woman  who  doesn't  like 
pretty  speeches,  and  who  has  such  a  charm 
ing  way  of  qualifying  her  hatred  of  Ameri 
cans,  and  who  can  see  the  point  of  a  rather 
delicate  joke,"  thought  Pern,  "  would  be  worth 
investigating  though  she  were  sixty  years  old 
and  as  ugly  as  the  National  Palace.  And 
Carmen" — this  was  the  first  time,  by  the  way, 
that  he  had  thought  of  her  as  Carmen — "  I 
take  it  is  not  quite  twenty  yet ;  and  what 
perfectly  lovely  eyes  she  has  !  " 

At  dinner  that  night  Mr.  Smith  was  unusu 
ally  silent.  When  rallied  by  the  lively  Violet 
upon  his  taciturnity  he  replied  that  he  was 
rather  tired. 


VI. 

THE   BATTLE   OF  CHURUBUSCO. 

WHEN  the  American  party  played  the 
return  match,  as  Rowney  Mauve,  who 
had  cricketing  proclivities,  expressed  it,  by 
giving  their  Mexican  friends  a  breakfast  in 
the  pretty  San  Cosme  Tivoli,  Carmen  did 
not  appear.  She  had  a  headache  that  day, 
her  aunt  explained,  and  begged  to  be  ex 
cused. 

Rose  commented  upon  this  phase  of  the 
breakfast  with  her  usual  perspicacity.  "  I 
think  that  it  all  is  working  along  very  nicely, 
Yan,  don't  you  ?"  They  had  strolled  off  to 
gether  and  were  out  of  ear-shot  of  the  rest  of 
the  party. 

"  What  is  working  along  nicely  ?  The 
breakfast  ?  Yes,  it  seems  to  be  all  right. 
The  food  was  very  fair,  and  our  friends  seemed 


314  A   MEXICAN  CAMPAIGN. 

to  enjoy  themselves  after  their  customary 
rather  demonstrative  fashion." 

"  It  is  a  great  trial  to  me,  Van,  the  way  you 
never  catch  my  meaning.  I  don't  mean  the 
breakfast  at  all ;  I  mean  about  Mr.  Smith  and 
this  lovely  widow.  Isn't  it  queer  to  think 
that  she  is  a  widow  ?  Except  that  she  has  a 
serious  way  about  her — that  has  come  to  her 
through  her  sorrow,  of  course,  poor  dear  ! — 
nobody  ever  would  dream  that  she  was  any 
thing  but  a  young  girl.  What  a  romance  hef 
life  has  been  !  " 

"  Well,  I  can't  say  that  I  see  much  romance 
about  it.  First  she  was  traded  off  by  her 
father  for  a  hydrant,  or  something  of  that  sort ; 
and  then  she  had  an  old  husband — a  most 
objectionable  old  beast  he  must  have  been 
from  what  we  have  heard  about  him — die 
on  her  hands  before  she  was  much  more  than 
married  to  him.  I  should  say  that  the  whole 
business  was  much  less  like  a  romance  than 
like  a  nightmare.  And  as  to  this  new  match 
that  you  have  made  up  for  her  working  along 
nicely,  it  strikes  me  that  just  now  it  is  work- 


THE  BATTLE   OF  CHURUBUSCO.       315 

ing  along  about  as  badly  as  it  can  work. 
Didn't  you  see  how  Smith  went  off  into  the 
dumps  the  moment  that  he  found  his  widow 
had  stayed  at  home  ?  And  don't  you  think 
that  her  staying  at  home  this  way  is  the  best 
possible  proof  that  she  doesn't  care  a  button 
for  him  ?  Smith  saw  it  quick  enough,  and 
that  was  what  made  him  drop  right  down 
into  dumpiness.  So  would  I,  if  I'd  been  him, 
and  a  girl  had  gone  back  on  me  that  way. 
You  used  to  come  and  take  walks  with  me, 
Rosekin — in  the  old  days  when  we  were 
spooning  in  Greenwich — when  your  head  was 
aching  fit  to  split,  you  precious  child."  They 
were  in  an  out-of-the-way  part  of  the  garden, 
and  on  the  strength  of  this  memory  Brown 
put  his  arm  around  his  wife  and  kissed  her. 
After  which  interlude  he  added  :  "  So  can't 
you  see  that  all  your  match-making  is  moon 
shine  ?  It's  a  case  of  '  he  loved  the  lady,  but 
the  lady  loved  not  him,'  and  you  might  as 
well  accept  the  situation  and  stop  your  castle- 
building." 

"  You  are  a  very  dear  boy,  Van,  and  of 


316          A  MEXICAN-  CAMPAIGN: 

course  I'd  go  walking  with  you  even  without 
any  head  at  all.  But  about  love-matters  you 
certainly  are  very  short-sighted.  You  can't 
help  it,  I  suppose,  because  you're  a  man  ;  and 
men  never  understand  these  things  at  all. 
But  any  woman  could  tell  you  at  a  glance 
that  this  love  affair  between  Mr.  Smith  and 
the  dear  little  Mexican  widow  is  going  on 
splendidly.  Even  you  can  see  that  Mr.  Smith 
is  in  love  with  her.  Well,  I  don't  think  that 
she's  exactly  in  love  with  him  yet ;  but  I  am 
quite  certain  that  she  feels  that  if  she  doesn't 
take  care  she  will  be.  That's  the  reason  she 
had  a  headache  and  didn't  come  to-day." 

"  What  a  comfort  it  would  be  to  Smith  to 
know  that ! "  Brown  remarked  with  fine  irony. 
"  You  had  better  tell  him,  my  dear." 

"  Yes,  of  course  it  would  be,"  Rose  an 
swered,  entirely  missing  the  irony.  "  And  I've 
been  thinking  that  I  would  tell  him,  Van  ; 
only  I  thought  that  perhaps  you  wouldn't 
like  me  to.  I'm  very  glad  you  won't  mind — 
for  of  course  he  doesn't  see,  men  are  so  stupid 
about  such  things.  Suppose  we  go  and  hunt 


THE  BATTLE    OF  CHURUBUSCO.       317 

him  up  now,  and  then  you  go  away  and  leave 
us  together,  and  I'll  tell  him  how  much  en 
couragement  she  is  giving  him." 

"  Suppose  you  tell  me  first.  I'll  be  shot  if 
I  see  much  that's  encouraging  in  her  shying 
off  from  him  this  way." 

"  Why,  I  have  told  you,  Van.  It's  because 
she  is  afraid  that  if  she  sees  any  more  of  him 
she  really  will  fall  in  love  with  him ;  and  of 
course,  after  her  dreadful  experience  with  that 
horrid  old  man  she  has  made  up  her  mind 
that  she  never  will  marry  again.  That  is  the 
way  that  any  nice  girl  would  feel  about  it. 
And  of  course,  if  she's  so  much  interested  in 
Mr.  Smith  that  she  won't  trust  herself  to  see 
him,  it  is  perfectly  clear  that  he  has  made  a 
very  good  start  toward  getting  her  to  love 
him.  What  we  must  do  now  is  to  help 
him " 

"  Steady,  Rose  ;  don't  go  off  your  head,  my 
child.  This  isn't  our  funeral." 

"  It  is  our  funeral.  Why,  it's  anybody's 
funeral  who  can  help  in  a  case  of  this  sort. 
Think  how  much  we  owe  to  dear  Verona  for 


3l8  A   MEXICAN  CAMPAIGN. 

the  way  that  she  helped  us.  Certainly  we 
must  help  him.  And  the  first  thing  for  us  to 
do  is  to  give  him  another  good  chance  to 
have  a  talk  with  her.  That's  all  they  want 
at  present.  No  doubt  we  can  do  some  other 
things  later ;  and  we  will,  of  course.  Why, 
Van,  how  can  you  be  so  heartless  as  not  to 
be  ready  to  do  everything  in  your  power  to 
help  your  friend  when  the  whole  happiness 
of  his  life  is  at  stake !  And  think  what  a 
good  thing  it  will  be  for  this  poor  sweet, 
broken-hearted  girl,  whose  life  has  gone  all 
wrong,  to  make  it  go  right  again." 

Mrs.  Brown's  strongest  characteristic  was 
not,  perhaps,  moderation.  In  the  present  in 
stance,  while  her  husband  was  not  wholly 
convinced  by  her  vigorous  line  of  argument, 
he  found  her  enthusiasm  rather  contagious. 

"  What  are  you  going  to  do  about  it  ?  "  he 
asked,  a  little  doubtfully. 

"Why,  I  think  we  can  manage  just  what 
has  to  be  done  now,  getting  them  together 
again,  you  know,  this  way :  You  know  Don 
Antonio  has  on  hand  an  expedition  for  us  to 


THE  BATTLE    OF  CHURUBUSCO.       319 

that  beautiful  old  convent  that  he  has  been 
talking  about,  where  there  is  such  lovely  tile- 
work,  out  at  Churubusco.  We  had  better 
arrange  things  now  to  go  day  after  to-morrow. 
And  to-morrow  Mr.  Smith  shall  send  a  note 
to  Don  Antonio  telling  him  that  he  is  very 
sorry  to  miss  the  expedition,  but  that  he  has 
decided  to  go  up  to  see  a  friend  in  Toluca. 
He  has  been  talking  about  that  engineer  up 
at  Toluca  whom  he  used  to  go  to  school 
with,  so  Don  Antonio  will  think  it  all  right 
and  perfectly  natural.  And  that  will  fix 
things  beautifully.  For  then  she'll  go,  of 
course." 

"  I  don't  see  how  it  will  fix  anything  beau 
tifully  for  him  to  go  off  to  Toluca.  He  won't 
see  his  widow  there." 

"  O  you  foolish  boy  !  He  won't  stay  there, 
of  course.  He  must  go,  because  if  he  didn't 
he  wouldn't  be  telling  the  truth  in  his  note 
to  Don  Antonio" — Rose  had  a  very  nice  re 
gard  for  the  truth — "but  instead  of  staying 
at  least  one  night,  as  of  course  they  will 
expect  him  to,  he  must  come  right  back  to 


320  A   MEXICAN  CAMPAIGN. 

Mexico  by  the  afternoon  train.  And  then 
he  can  tell  Don  Antonio,  when  we  all  meet 
at  the  car  as  we  did  the  other  day,  that  he 
has  returned  on  purpose  to  join  his  party; 
and  that  will  please  Don  Antonio — and  then 
it  will  be  too  late  for  her  to  back  out.  And  if 
he  needs  any  help  to  get  her  off  to  himself 
when  we  are  out  at  the  convent,  he  can  de 
pend  upon  me  to  see  that  he  gets  it !  Isn't 
that  a  pretty  good  plan,  Van  ?  How  delight 
ful  and  exciting  it  all  is!  It's  almost  as 
though  we  were  overcoming  difficulties  and 
obstacles  and  getting  married  again  ourselves, 
isn't  it,  dear  ?  " 

"  No,  I  don't  think  it  is.  I  think  it's  mainly 
vigorous  imagination  let  loose  upon  a  very 
small  amount  of  fact.  But  we'll  play  your  lit 
tle  game,  Rose,  just  for  the  fun  of  the  thing. 
Only  there's  one  thing,  child,  that  you  must 
be  careful  about.  You  can't  make  your  plan 
go  without  explaining  it  to  Smith.  Now 
don't  you  tell  him  all  the  nonsense  you  have 
been  telling  me  about  the  way  you  think  the 
widow  feels  toward  him.  I  don't  think  it's  so ; 


THE  BATTLE   OF  CHURUBUSCO.       $21 

and  since  he  really  seems  to  be  rather  hard  hit, 
it  isn't  fair  to  set  him  up  with  a  whole  lot  of 
hopes  and  then  have  things  turn  out  the  other 
way  and  knock  him  down  again.  Tell  him 
that  it  is  just  barely  possible  that  things  are 
the  way  you  think  they  are,  and  that  your 
plan  is  in  the  nature  of  an  experiment  that 
probably  will  have  no  result  at  all,  or  will 
turn  out  altogether  badly  —  as  I  certainly 
think  it  will.  I  don't  believe  that  you  can 
do  him  any  good ;  but  if  you  put  the  matter 
to  him  this  way  at  least  you  won't  do  him 
any  harm." 

And  Rose,  perceiving  the  justice  of  her 
husband's  utterance,  promised  him  that  in  her 
treatment  of  this  delicate  affair  she  would  be 
very  circumspect  indeed. 

The  first  part  of  the  plan  thus  skilfully 
elaborated  worked  to  a  charm.  When  the 
Americans  joined  Don  Antonio  and  his  party 
on  the  Plaza,  to  take  the  special  tram-car  in 
waiting  for  them  on  the  Tlalpam  tracks,  Rose 
gave  Van  a  delighted  nudge  and  whispered  : 

21 


322  A   MEXICAN  CAMPAIGN. 

"  See,  she  has  come,  just  as  I  said  she 
would.  And  oh !  oh ! " —  Rose  squeezed 
Van's  arm  in  her  excitement  with  what  he 
considered  quite  unnecessary  vigor  —  "she 
has  just  seen  Mr.  Smith,  and  she  is,  in 
deed  she  is,  changing  color!  Don't  you 
see  it  ?  Now  you  know  that  I  was  right  all 
along." 

Brown,  being  on  the  lookout  for  it,  did  per 
ceive  this  sign  of  confusion  on  the  part  of 
the  Seftora  Carilla ;  but  it  was  so  slight  that 
no  one  else,  Pern  alone  excepted,  noticed  it. 
Another  good  sign,  as  Rose  interpreted  it, 
was  that  while  Don  Antonio  and  the  rest 
were  running  over  with  voluble  expressions 
of  their  pleasure  because  the  Sefior  Esmit — 
the  first  letter  and  the  digraph  in  Pern's  name 
were  too  much  for  them — had  cut  short  his 
visit  to  his  friend  in  Toluca  in  order  to  join 
them  in  their  outing,  Cdrmen  maintained  a 
discreet  silence.  Pern,  not  being  gifted  with 
special  powers  of  tortuous  penetration,  re 
garded  this  silence  as  ominous,  until  Rose, 
perceiving  that  he  was  going  wrong,  man- 


THE  BATTLE   OF  CHURUBUSCO.       323 

aged  to  whisper  to  him  cheeringly  :  "  It's  all 
right.  Quick,  go  and  sit  by  her  !  " 

But  this  friendly  advice  came  too  late  to 
be  acted  upon.  Carmen,  possibly  foreseeing 
Pern's  intention,  executed  a  rapid  flank  move 
ment — that  Rose  thought  made  the  case  still 
more  hopeful,  and  that  Pem  thought  made 
it  still  more  hopeless — by  which  she  placed 
herself  securely  between  her  aunt  and  her 
cousin  Rodolfo,  and  so  decisively  checked 
the  enemy's  advance. 

Under  these  discouraging  circumstances 
Pem  fell  back  on  his  reserve — that  is  to  say, 
on  Rose ;  who  made  a  place  for  him  to  sit  be 
side  her  and,  so  far  as  this  was  possible  with 
out  being  too  marked  in  her  confidences,  said 
what  she  could  to  cheer  and  comfort  him. 

And,  indeed,  this  young  gentleman's  re 
quirements  in  the  way  of  cheering  and  com 
forting  were  very  considerable.  He  had  con 
fided  freely  in  Rose — who  was  a  most  re 
freshingly  sympathetic  confidante  in  a  love 
affair — after  she  'herself  had  broken  the  ice 
for  him  ;  and  the  very  fact  of  talking  to  her 


324  A   MEXICAN  CAMPAIGN1. 

about  his  heart  troubles  had  done  a  good  deal 
to  give  them  substance  and  directness.  As 
the  result  of  several  conversations,  Rose  ar 
rived  at  the  conclusion  that  if  Cdrmen  had 
come  to  the  breakfast  at  San  Cosme,  and  had 
treated  Pern  in  an  every-day,  matter-of-fact 
sort  of  way,  the  affair  very  likely  would  have 
been  there  and  then  ended.  "  But  when  I 
went  to  breakfast,  and  she  was  not  there, 
Mrs.  Brown,"  Pem  exclaimed,  "  I  suddenly 
realized  how  dreadfully  much  I  had  counted 
upon  seeing  her,  and  what  a  hold  she  had 
upon  me  generally.  And  then,  while  I  was 
wretchedly  low  in  my  mind  about  it  all,  you 
came  to  me  like  an  angel  and  told  me  that 
perhaps  I  had  something  to  hope  for.  I 
shouldn't  have  hoped  at  all  if  it  hadn't  been 
for  you.  I  think  that  I  might  even  have  had 
sense  enough  just  to  let  it  all  go,  and  started 
right  back  for  the  States.  And  that  would 
have  been  the  end  of  it.  But  now  that  you 
have  encouraged  me,  I'm  quite  another  man. 
I  shall  fight  it  out  now  till  she  absolutely 
throws  me  over,  or  till  I  marry  her. 


THE  BATTLE   OF  CHURUBUSCO.       325 

"  In  the  matter  of  family,  Mrs.  Brown," 
Pern  went  on,  his  Philadelphia  instincts  as 
serting  themselves,  "  the  marriage  is  a  very 
desirable  one.  Her  people  have  been  estab 
lished  in  Ame*rica  even  longer  than  mine. 
Her  cousin  tells  me  that  they  trace  their 
ancestry  directly  to  the  Conqueror  himself — 
through  the  Cortes  Tolosa  line,  you  know — 
and  they  are  connected  with  some  of  the  very 
best  families  of  Mexico  and  Spain.  So,  you 
see,  there  is  no  reason  why  I  should  not  make 
her  my  wife.  If  it  can  be  done,  I'm  going 
to  do  it ;  and  if  it  can't — well,  if  it  can't, 
there  won't  be  much  left  in  my  life  that's 
worth  living  for,  that's  all." 

When  Rose  reported  this  conversation  to 
her  husband  he  listened  with  an  air  of  serious 
concern.  "  You've  shoved  yourself  into  a 
tolerably  good -sized  responsibility,  Rose," 
he  said;  "and  I'm  inclined  to  think,  my 
child,  that  you're  going  to  make  a  mess  of  it. 
I  should  advise  you,  if  you  are  lucky  enough 
to  get  out  of  this  scrape  with  a  whole  skin, 
to  take  it  as  a  sort  of  solemn  warning:  that  in 


326  A   MEXICAN  CAMPAIGN-. 

future  you  will  save  yourself  a  good  deal  of 
trouble  if  you  will  let  other  people's  love- 
making  alone.  But  since  you  are  so  far  in, 
my  dear,  I  don't  see  how  you  can  do  any 
thing  but  go  ahead  and  try  to  bring  Smith 
out  all  right  on  the  other  side." 

Rose  would  not  admit,  of  course,  that  she 
felt  at  all  overpowered  by  the  weight  of  her 
responsibility ;  but  she  did  feel  it,  at  least  a 
little,  and  consequently  hailed  with  a  very 
lively  satisfaction  every  act  on  Carmen's  part 
that  possibly  could  be  construed  as  support 
ing  the  hopeful  view  of  the  situation  that  she 
so  energetically  avowed.  She  went  into  the 
fight  with  all  the  more  vigor  now  that  victory 
was  necessary  not  only  to  the  happiness  of 
her  ally,  but  to  the  vindication  of  her  own 
reputation  as  the  projector  of  heart-winning 
campaigns. 

Rose  was  encouraged  by  the  fact  that  the 
tactics  of  the  enemy  were  distinctly  defen 
sive.  She  argued  that  this  betrayed  a  con 
sciousness,  possibly  only  instinctive,  but  none 
the  less  real,  of  forces  insufficient  to  risk  a 


THE  BATTLE   OF  CHURUBUSCO.       327 

general  engagement ;  and  she  further  argued 
that  the  most  effective  plan  of  attack  would 
be  to  cut  off  the  main  body  of  the  enemy 
(that  is  to  say,  Carmen  herself)  from  her  re 
serves  (that  is  to  say,  from  the  protection  of 
her  aunt  and  other  relatives)  and  then  to 
force  a  decisive  battle.  Before  the  car  reached 
San  Mateo  she  had  communicated  this  plan 
to  Pern,  and  he  had  agreed  to  it. 

But  it  is  one  thing  to  plan  a  campaign  in 
the  cabinet,  and  it  is  quite  another  thing  to 
carry  on  the  campaign  in  the  field.  The 
allies  presently  had  this  fact  in  military  sci 
ence  pointedly  brought  home  to  them. 

From  where  the  car  was  stopped,  near  the 
little  old  parish  church  of  San  Mateo — 
closed  now  and  falling  into  ruin,  for  the 
near-by  conventual  church  has  been  used  in 
its  stead — the  party  walked  a  short  half-mile 
along  a  lane  bordered  by  magueys,  and  then 
came  out  upon  a  plazuela  whereon  the  main 
gate  of  the  convent  opened.  In  the  middle 
of  the  plazuela  Pern  saw,  much  to  his  dis 
gust,  another  pyramidal  battle  monument, 


328  A   MEXICAN  CAMPAIGN. 

inscribed,  like  the  one  at  Molino  del  Rey, 
with  a  brief  eulogy  of  Mexican  valor  as  shown 
in  the  gallant  but  futile  resistance  offered  to 
the  invading  armies  of  the  Americans  of  the 
North.  It  was  very  unlucky,  he  thought, 
that  their  expeditions  should  be  directed  so 
persistently  to  the  old  battle-fields  of  that 
wretched  war.  Since  Carmen's  pointed  refer 
ence  to  the  war,  he  had  bought  a  Mexican 
school  history  and  had  read  up  on  it ;  and 
even  allowing  for  the  natural  bias  of  the  his 
torian,  the  more  that  he  read  about  the  part 
played  by  his  own  country  the  more  was  he 
ashamed  of  his  own  countrymen.  Yet  he 
could  not  but  think  also  that  it  was  rather 
hard  that  he  should  have  to  bear  such  a  lot 
of  responsibility  for  an  event  that  occurred 
before  he  was  born.  It  wasn't  fair  in  Car 
men,  he  thought,  to  liven  up  a  dead  issue 
like  that  and  then  to  make  it  so  confound 
edly  personal. 

A  couple  of  Mexican  soldiers,  in  rather 
draggled  linen  uniforms,  were  sitting  sentry 
lazily  at  the  convent  gate;  and  Don  Antonio 


THE   BATTLE   OF  CHURUBUSCO.      329 

explained  that  the  convent  proper  was  now 
a  military  hospital.  The  church,  and  the 
large  close  in  front  of  it,  remained  devoted 
to  religious  purposes,  he  said ;  and  that  por 
tion  of  the  old  convent  which  inclosed  the 
inner  quadrangle  had  been  reserved  as  a 
dwelling-place  for  the  parish  priest. 

Passing  to  the  left  and  turning  the  angle 
in  the  wall,  they  came  to  an  arched  gateway 
approached  by  a  short  flight  of  stone  steps ; 
and  through  this  stately  entrance,  albeit 
somewhat  shorn  of  its  stateliness  by  the  ruin 
ous  condition  of  its  great  wooden  doors,  they 
entered,  and  descended  another  short  flight 
of  steps  into  the  close. 

"  Where  are  your  Italian  convents  now  ?  " 
Brown  asked,  turning  to  Rowney  Mauve, 
who  that  morning  had  been  talking  rather 
airily  about  Italian  convents.  "  You  admitted 
as  we  came  along  how  good  this  place  was 
in  mass — not  scattered  a  bit,  but  all  the  lines 
well  worked  together — and  how  well  the  gray 
and  brown  of  the  walls,  and  the  green  of  the 
trees,  and  the  blue  and  white  tiling  of  the 


33O  A   MEXICAN  CAMPAIGN. 

dome,  come  together.  Now  we  have  some 
detail.  Did  you  ever  strike  anything  in 
Italy  better  than  this  great  high-walled  close, 
with  its  heavy  shadows  from  these  stunning 
trees  and  from  the  church  and  the  convent, 
and  its  bits  of  color  from  these  stations  of 
the  cross  in  colored  tiles  ?  The  church  might 
be  better,  but  it  has  at  least  a  certain  heavy 
grandeur,  and  the  little  tower  up  there  is 
capital.  And  look  how  well  those  black 
arches  close  beside  it  bring  out  that  per 
fectly  beautiful  little  chapel — I  suppose  it  is 
a  chapel — completely  covered  with  blue  and 
yellow  tiles !  There  are,  no  doubt,  grander 
churches  than  this  in  Italy,  and  in  several 
other  places ;  but  I'll  be  shot  if  I  believe  that 
there  are  any  more  perfectly  picturesque  or 
more  entirely  beautiful.  Smith,  just  tell 
Don  Antonio  that  I  shall  be  grateful  to  him 
to  the  end  of  my  days  for  having  shown  me 
this  lovely  place." 

"  He  says  that  the  cloister  is  finer,"  Pern 
translated,  while  Don  Antonio's  face  beamed 
thanks  upon  the  party  at  large ;  for  all  the 


THE  BATTLE    OF  CHURUBUSCO.       331 

Americans  manifestly  concurred  in  Brown's 
enthusiastic  expression  of  opinion.  "And 
he  says  that  the  finest  tile-work  is  in  the 
choir.  I  must  say  I  don't  remember  any 
thing  in  Spain  better  than  this.  It's  the  rich, 
subdued  color  of  it  all,  and  the  light  and 
shade,  I  suppose,  that  does  the  business.  I 
don't  think  it  would  paint,  though ;  do  you, 
Orpiment  ?  " 

"No,  I  don't.  You  could  make  a  pretty 
good  picture  of  it ;  but  the  picture  wouldn't 
go  for  much  with  anybody  who  had  seen  the 
original.  You  can't  paint  a  place  that  goes 
all  around  you,  the  way  that  this  does  ;  and 
you  can't  paint  the  spirit  and  the  feeling  of 
it — at  least  I  can't;  and  that's  what  you'd 
have  to  get  here  if  you  got  anything  at  all. 
No,  this  is  one  of  the  places  that  we'd  better 
let  alone." 

The  decision,  which  was  a  wise  one,  having 
been  arrived  at,  the  party  passed  under  the 
archway  beside  the  tiled  chapel  and  so  entered 
the  inner  quadrangle,  surrounded  by  an  arched 
cloister  two  stories  high,  the  walls  wainscoted 


332  A  MEXICAN  CAMPAIGN. 

with  blue  and  white  tiles.  In  the  open, 
sunny  centre  was  a  little  garden,  and  in  the 
midst  of  the  garden  a  curious  old  stone  foun 
tain  in  which  purely  transparent  water  bub 
bled  up  from  a  spring  with  such  force  as  to 
make  a  jet  three  or  four  inches  high  above 
the  centre  of  the  large  pool.  The  bubbling 
water  glittered  in  the  sunlight,  and  little 
waves  that  seemed  half  water  and  half  sun 
shine  constantly  went  out  from  the  throbbing 
centre  of  the  pool  and  fell  away  lightly  upon 
its  inclosing  quaintly  carved  walls  of  stone. 

Here  there  was  another  outburst  of  ad 
miration  on  the  part  of  the  Americans,  and 
while  they  were  in  the  midst  of  it  the  parish 
priest,  attracted  by  the  sound  of  so  many 
voices  in  this  usually  silent  and  forgotten 
place,  came  forth  from  a  low  archway  and 
stared  about  him  wonderingly.  He  was  a 
little  round  man,  with  a  kindly,  gentle  face, 
and  a  simplicity  of  manner  that  told  of  a 
pure  soul  and  a  trustful  heart.  Mrs.  Gam 
boge,  who  entertained  tolerably  strong  con 
victions  in  regard  to  the  Scarlet  Woman, 


THE  BATTLE   OF  CHURUBUSCO.       333 

and  who  heretofore  had  held  as  a  cardinal 
matter  of  faith  that  every  Roman  Catholic 
priest  was  a  duly  authorized  agent  of  the 
Evil  One,  found  some  difficulty  in  reconcil 
ing  with  these  sound  Protestant  views  the 
look  and  manner,  and  such  of  the  talk  as 
was  translated  to  her,  of  this  simple-minded, 
single-hearted  man. 

When  it  was  made  clear  to  the  little  Padre 
that  this  distinguished  company,  including 
even  Americans  from  the  infinitely  remote 
city  of  New  York,  had  come  to  look  at  his 
church  because  it  was  beautiful,  his  expres 
sion  of  mingled  amazement  and  delight  was 
a  joy  to  behold.  It  had  never  occurred  to 
him,  he  said,  that  anybody  but  himself  should 
think  of  his  poor  church  as  beautiful.  He 
had  thought  it  so  for  a  long  while,  ever  since 
he  had  been  brought  to  this  parish  from  his 
former  parish  of  Los  Reyes  :  where  the  church 
was  very  small  and  very  shabby,  and,  more 
over,  was  tumbling  down.  But  he  had 
thought  that  his  feeling  for  the  beauty  of 
his  church  was  only  because  he  loved  it  so 


334  A  MEXICAN  CAMPAIGN. 

well ;  for  in  all  the  years  that  he  had  been 
there  no  one  ever  had  even  hinted  that  it 
was  anything  more  than  churches  usually  are. 
Yet,  it  had  seemed  to  him,  he  said  modestly, 
that  there  was  something  about  the  way  the 
shadows  fell  in  the  morning  in  the  close,  and 
something  at  that  time  about  the  colors  of  the 
walls  and  the  richer  color  of  the  tiles,  the  like 
of  which  he  had  not  seen  elsewhere.  In  the 
stillness  and  quiet,  amid  these  soft  shadows 
and  soft  colors,  somehow  he  found  that  his 
heart  became  so  full  that  often,  without  at  all 
meaning  to  pray,  he  would  find  his  thoughts 
shaping  themselves  in  prayer. 

"  Good  for  the  Padre,"  said  Orpiment,  when 
Pern  translated  this  to  him.  "  That's  the 
part  of  that  picture  that  I  said  couldn't  be 
painted.  He  doesn't  look  it  a  bit,  but  that 
little  round  man  is  an  artist."  But  Orpiment 
was  mistaken.  Padre  Romero  loved  beauti 
ful  things  not  because  he  was  an  artist,  but 
because  he  had  a  simple  mind  and  a  pure 
soul. 

Under  the  Padre's  guidance  the  party  en- 


THE  BATTLE   OF  CHURUBUSCO.       335 

tered  the  church — commonplace  within,  for 
reformation  had  destroyed  its  seventeenth- 
century  quaintness — and  thence  passed  up 
through  the  convent  to  the  choir.  This 
beautiful  place,  rich  in  elaborate  tile-work, 
remained  intact;  and  even  the  great  choir- 
books,  wrought  on  parchment  in  colored  inks, 
still  rested  on  the  faldstool,  waiting  for  the 
brothers  to  cluster  around  them  once  again 
in  song.  And  there  were  the  benches  where 
on  the  brothers  once  had  rested  ;  the  central 
chair,  in  which  their  Father  Saint  Francis 
had  sat  in  effigy ;  and  to  the  right  of  this  the 
chair  of  the  Father  Guardian.  But  the 
brothers  had  departed  forever :  legislated  out 
of  existence  by  the  Laws  of  the  Reform. 

Rose  gave  a  little  shudder  as  she  looked 
about  her  in  this  solemn,  deserted  place;  and 
with  her  customary  clearness  of  expression 
declared  that  it  was  "something  like  being  in 
a  deserted  tomb  full  of  Egyptian  mummies." 

"  And  to  think,"  said  Mr.  Mangan  Brown, 
who  was  a  martyr  to  sea-sickness,  "  that 
Americans  are  constantly  crossing  that  beast- 


336  A   MEXICAN  CAMPAIGN^ 

ly  Atlantic  Ocean  in  search  of  the  picturesque 
when  things  like  this  are  to  be  seen  dry-shod 
almost  at  their  doors.  Let  us  have  our 
breakfast  at  once."  f 

There  was  a  lack  of  consecutiveness  about 
Mr.  Brown's  remark,  but  its  abstract  com 
ment  and  concrete  suggestion  were  equally 
well  received.  Even  Rowney  Mauve,  who 
was  disposed  to  be  critical,  admitted  that 
there  were  "  several  things  worth  looking  at 
in  Mexico,"  and  added,  by  way  of  practical 
comment  upon  Mr.  Brown's  practical  pro 
posal,  that  he  was  as  hungry  as  a  bear. 

All  this  while  Rose  had  been  endeavoring 
to  bring  about  the  tete-a-t$te  between  Pern 
and  Carmen  that  she  believed  would  tend  to 
the  accomplishment  of  their  mutual  happi 
ness.  But  her  efforts  had  been  unsuccessful. 
Carmen's  defensive  tactics  no  longer  admitted 
of  doubt,  and  even  Rose  was  beginning  to 
think  that  her  sanguine  interpretation  of  their 
meaning  might  be  open  to  question.  Thus 
far  she  had  tried  to  cut  Carmen  out  from  her 
supports.  She  determined  now  to  attempt 


THE  BATTLE   OF  CHURUBUSCO.       337 

the  more  difficult  task  of  drawing  off  these 
supports,  and  so  leaving  Carmen  isolated. 

The  breakfast,  a  very  lively  meal  eaten  in 
the  lower  cloister  to  the  accompaniment  of 
the  tinkling  of  water  falling  from  the  foun 
tain,  gave  her  the  desired  opportunity  for 
organizing  her  forces.  With  the  intelligent 
assistance  of  Violet,  who  was  taken  into  par 
tial  confidence  because  her  knowledge  of 
Spanish  made  her  a  valuable  auxiliary,  Rose 
contrived  to  break  up  the  party,  when  break 
fast  was  ended,  so  that  she,  Dofia  Catalina, 
Carmen,  and  Pern  remained  together,  while 
the  others  scattered  to  explore  the  convent. 
Then,  Pern  serving  as  interpreter,  she  asked 
the  ladies  if  it  would  be  possible  to  walk  in 
the  tangled  old  garden  that  they  had  seen 
from  a  window  in  the  sacristy. 

Dofia  Catalina,  being  devoted  to  gardens, 
as  Mexican  women  usually  are,  accepted  the 
proposition  immediately  and  heartily;  and 
Carmen — a.  little  uneasily,  Rose  thought — 
fell  in  with  the  plan.  Fortunately  the  Padre 
appeared  at  this  moment,  and  was  delighted 


338  A   MEXICAN  CAMPAIGN. 

to  guide  them  through  a  long  dark  corridor 
and  so  into  his  domain  of  trees  and  flowers. 
He  was  full  of  enthusiasm  about  the  garden. 
It  had  been  restored  to  the  church  only  a 
month  before,  he  said,  after  belonging  to  the 
hospital  ever  since  the  property  had  been 
confiscated.  The  soldiers  had  done  nothing 
with  it.  The  ladies  could  see  for  themselves 
its  neglected  state.  They  must  come  again 
in  a  year's  time,  and  then  they  would  see  one 
of  the  finest  gardens  in  the  world.  And  full 
of  delight,  the  little  man  explained  with  great 
volubility  his  plans  for  pruning  and  training, 
for  clearing  away  weeds  and  rubbish,  and  for 
making  his  wilderness  once  more  to  blossom 
like  the  rose.  Dofta  Catalina,  having  her 
own  notions  about  gardens,  entered  with 
much  animation  into  his  plans,  and  they 
talked  away  at  a  great  rate. 

So  Rose  and  Pern  and  Carmen  walked 
through  the  shady  alleys  slowly,  while  Dona 
Catalina  and  the  priest,  walking  still  more 
slowly,  and  stopping  here  and  there,  that  the 
projected  improvements  might  be  fully  ex 
plained,  dropped  a  long  way  behind. 


THE  BATTLE   OF  CHURUBUSCO.       339 

It  was  a  perfect  Mexican  day.  Overhead 
was  a  clear,  very  dark-blue  sky ;  liquid  sun 
shine  fell  warmly  through  the  cool,  crisp  air ; 
a  gentle  wind  idled  along  easily  among  the 
branches  of  the  trees.  The  garden  was  very 
still.  The  only  sound  was  a  low  buzzing  of 
bees  among  the  blossoms,  and  the  faint  gur 
gle  of  the  flowing  water  in  conduits  unseen 
amidst  the  trees. 

Rose  stepped  aside  to  pluck  a  spray  of 
peach-blossoms.  Cdrmen  half  stopped,  but 
Pern,  with  admirable  presence  of  mind,  walked 
slowly  on  without  pausing  in  the  rather  com 
monplace  remark  that  he  happened  to  be 
making  in  regard  to  the  advantages  of  irriga 
tion.  A  few  steps  farther  on  they  came  to  a 
half-ruined  arbor.  They  turned  here  and 
looked  back  along  the  alley,  but  Rose  was 
not  in  sight.  "  She  will  join  us  in  a  moment," 
said  Pern.  "  She  is  looking  for  flowers — she 
is  very  fond  of  flowers.  Shall  we  wait  for  her 
here  ?  And  will  the  Seflorita  seat  herself  in 
the  shade  ?  " 

Carmen  stood  for  a  moment  irresolute.  As 


340  A   MEXICAN  CAMPAIGN. 

the  result  of  what  she  believed  to  be  a  series 
of  small  accidents,  she  found  herself  now  in 
precisely  the  situation  that  she  had  deter 
mined  to  avoid — alone  with  this  Americano 
whom  she  had  decided  in  her  own  mind  to 
keep  at  a  safe  distance.  Yet  now  that  the 
situation  that  she  had  tried  hard  to  render 
impossible  actually  had  been  brought  about 
she  found  in  it  a  certain  excitement  in  which 
pleasure  was  blended  curiously  with  pain. 
Her  position  certainly  was  weakened,  for 
Pern  observed,  and  counted  the  sign  a  good 
one,  that  her  color  had  increased  and  that 
her  eyes  were  brighter  even  than  usual.  She 
herself  was  conscious  that  the  attack  now 
had  passed  inside  the  skirmish  line,  and  made 
an  effort — not  a  very  vigorous  one — to  rally 
her  forces. 

"  Senorita !  Seflorita !  "  she  called,  but  not 
very  loudly,  and  her  voice  lacked  firmness. 
There  was  no  answer. 

"  She  will  be  here  in  a  moment,"  Pern  re 
peated.  "  It  is  pleasant  in  this  shady  place. 
Will  not  the  Seftorita  seat  herself  ?  And  will 


THE  BATTLE   OF  CHURUBUSCO.       341 

she  answer  me  one  question  ?  "  Pern's  own 
heart  was  getting  up  into  his  throat  in  an 
awkward  sort  of  way,  and  his  voice  was  not 
nearly  so  steady  as  he  wished  it  to  be.  But 
the  chance  had  come  that  he  had  been  wait 
ing  for,  and  he  was  determined  to  make  the 
most  of  it. 

Carmen  gave  a  hurried  glance  around  her. 
Rose  still  remained  invisible.  It  was  very 
lonely  there  in  the  old  garden,  and  the  still 
ness  seemed  to  be  intensified  by  the  low,  soft 
buzzing  of  the  bees.  There  was  a  tightness 
about  her  heart,  and  she  felt  a  little  faint. 
Her  color  had  left  her  face  and  she  was  quite 
pale.  She  seated  herself  with  a  little  sigh. 
But  she  realized  that  another  rally  was  nec 
essary,  for  the  shakiness  of  Pern's  voice  had 
an  unmistakable  meaning.  She  could  guess 
pretty  well,  no  matter  what  his  one  question 
might  be,  in  what  direction  it  ultimately 
would  lead,  and  she  felt  that  she  must  check 
him  before  it  was  spoken.  Her  wits,  how 
ever,  were  not  in  very  good  working  order, 
and  she  presented  the  first  thought  that  came 


342  A   MEXICAN  CAMPAIGN. 

into  her  mind — the  thought,  indeed,  that  had 
been  uppermost  in  her  mind  all  that  day  : 

"  The  Sefior  soon  will  leave  Mexico  ?  "  she 
said.  She  was  aware  even  as  these  words 
were  spoken  that  they  served  her  purpose 
badly.  Pern  perceived  this  too,  and  hastened 
to  avail  himself  of  the  opening.  "  And  the 
Seftorita  will  be  glad  when  I  am  gone  ?  " 

"  Glad  ?  No.  But  everything  must  have 
an  end,  and  the  Seftor  no  doubt  now  is  tired 
of  this  land  and  will  have  pleasure  in  re 
turning  to  his  own.  He  will  have  many  live 
ly  stories  to  tell  his  friends  about  the  savages 
whom  he  has  seen  in  Mexico ;  and  then  pres 
ently  he  will  forget  Mexico  and  the  savages, 
and  will  be  busied  again  with  his  own  con 
cerns.  Is  it  not  so  ?  " 

"  Is  it  the  custom  of  Mexicans  thus  to  for 
get  friends  who  have  shown  them  great  kind 
ness  ;  or  does  the  Seflorita  argue  by  contra 
ries,  and  declare  that  because  Mexicans  are 
grateful  there  is  no  such  virtue  as  gratitude 
among  Americans  ?  Does  the  Seflorita  truly 
in  her  heart  believe  that  I  shall  forget  the 


THE  BATTLE   OF  CHURUBUSCO.       343 

kindness  that  has  been  shown  to   me  here, 
and  the — and  those  who  have  shown  it  ?  " 

"  Ah,  well,  it  is  a  little  matter,  not  worth 
talking  about,"  Carmen  replied,  uneasily. 
"  No  doubt  some  Americans  have  feelings  of 
gratitude,  and  other  virtues  as  well.  But, 
as  the  Sefior  knows,  I  am  not  fond  of 
Americans.  I  know  too  well  the  story  of 
my  own  country.  Yes,  I  know  that  I 
should  not  have  spoken  of  this  again,"  Cdr- 
men  went  on,  answering  the  pained  look  on 
Pern's  face,  "  but  it  is  not  my  fault.  The 
Sefior  should  not  have  made  me  talk  about 
Americans."  This  with  a  little  air  of  de 
fiance.  "  And  least  of  all  in  this  place.  The 
Sefior  knows  that  this  very  convent  was 
captured  by  his  countrymen  from  mine  ? 
But  does  he  remember  that  after  the  surren 
der,  when  he  was  asked  to  give  up  his  ammu 
nition,  the  General  Anaya  replied,  '  Had  I  any 
ammunition,  you  would  not  be  here  ? '  Is 
not  that  the  whole  story  of  the  war,  told  in 
a  single  word  ?  Does  the  Sefior  wonder  that 
I  hate  the  Americans  with  all  my  heart  ?  " 


344          A  MEXICAN  CAMPAIGN: 

Pern  was  less  disconcerted  by  this  sally 
than  he  had  been  by  the  similar  revival  of 
dead  issues  at  the  Molino  del  Rey.  He  was 
fairly  well  convinced  in  his  own  mind  that 
Carmen  was  saying  not  more  than  she  meant 
in  the  abstract,  perhaps;  but,  certainly,  a 
good  deal  more  than  she  meant  in  the  con 
crete  as  applied  to  himself.  It  was  his  be 
lief  that  she  was  forcing  fchis  new  fighting  of 
the  old  war  as  a  rather  desperate  means  of 
delivering  herself  from  engaging  in  a  new 
and  more  personal  conflict.  He  also  inferred 
from  her  adoption  of  a  line  of  defence  that 
he  knew  was  distasteful  to  her  that,  like 
General  Anaya,  she  was  short  of  ammunition. 
Entertaining  these  convictions,  he  was  dis 
posed  to  press  the  attack  vigorously. 

"  Let  us  not  talk  about  Americans,"  he 
said.  "  Let  us  talk  about  one  single  Ameri 
can.  Does  the  Seflorita  hate  me  ?  " 

This  sudden  and  very  pointed  question 
produced  much  the  same  effect  as  that  of  the 
unmasking  of  a  heavy  mortar  battery.  It 
threw  the  enemy  into  great  confusion,  and 


THE  BATTLE   OF  CHURUBUSCO.       345 

for  a  moment  completely  silenced  the  de 
fending  guns. 

Cdrmen  was  not  prepared  for  so  sharp  a 
shifting  of  the  conversation  from  general  to 
exceedingly  personal  grounds.  She  flushed 
again,  and  then  again  grew  pale.  She  was 
silent  for  a  very  long  while — at  least  so  it 
seemed  to  Pern.  Her  head  was  reclining 
backward  against  the  trellis-work  of  the 
arbor  in  a  way  that  showed  the  beautiful 
lines  of  her  throat.  Her  eyes  were  nearly 
closed,  and  almost  wholly  veiled  by  her  long 
black  lashes — that  seemed  still  blacker  by 
contrast  with  her  pale  cheeks.  Her  mouth 
was  open  a  little,  and  her  breath  came  and 
went  irregularly.  Her  face  was  still ;  but 
as  Pern  waited  for  her  answer,  watching  her 
closely,  he  saw  an  expression  of  resolve  come 
into  it.  Then  at  last  she  spoke  : 

"  I  do  hate  you,"  she  said,  slowly  and 
firmly.  But  as  she  spoke  the  words  there 
was  a  drawing  of  the  muscles  of  her  face,  as 
though  she  suffered  bodily  pain. 

"  Unearthed  at  last !      By  Jove,  Smith,  I 


346  A   MEXICAN  CAMPAIGN. 

had  begun  to  think  that  you  and  the  Sefl- 
orita  and  Rose  had  fitted  yourselves  out 
with  wings  and  flown  away  somewhere.  I've 
been  looking  for  you  high  and  low,  literally ; 
for  I've  been  up  on  the  roof  of  the  convent, 
and  now  I'm  down  here.  Where  is  Rose  ? 
Dofia  Catalina  said  that  you  all  three  were 
here  in  the  garden.  Oh !  there  she  comes 
now.  Come  !  We're  all  waiting  for  you  ; 
it's  time  to  start  back  to  town." 

Brown  was  of  the  opinion  that  he  did  not 
at  all  deserve  the  rating  that  Rose  gave  him, 
on  the  first  convenient  opportunity,  for  per 
petrating  this  most  untoward  interruption. 
"  How  the  dickens  could  I  know  they  were 
spooning  by  themselves  ? "  he  asked.  "  I 
thought  that  you  all  three  were  together,  of 
course."  And  although  Rose,  who  took 
the  matter  a  good  deal  to  heart,  replied  that 
this  "  was  just  like  him,"  she  could  not  but 
accept  this  reasonable  excuse. 

On  Pern  and  Carmen  the  effects  of  the 
interruption  were  different.  Whatever  her 
more  considerate  opinion  might  be,  Carmen's 


THE  BATTLE    OF  CHURUBUSCO.       347 

first  feeling  certainly  was  that  of  relief.  She 
had  fired  the  shot  that  she  had  nerved  her 
self  to  fire,  and  the  diversion  had  come  just 
in  time  to  check  the  reply  of  the  enemy  and 
to  cover  her  orderly  retreat. 

Pern,  realizing  that  the  situation  was  crit 
ical,  was  thoroughly  indignant.  He  wanted 
to  punch  Brown's  head.  Fortunately  no 
opportunity  offered  for  this  practical  ex 
pression  of  his  wrath,  and  by  the  time  that 
he  got  back  to  town  he  had  cooled  down  a 
little.  But  he  was  so  grumpy  on  the  return 
journey,  and  looked  so  thoroughly  uncom 
fortable,  that  the  motherly  Dofia  Catalina 
expressed  grave  concern  when  she  bade  him 
good-by  and  frankly  asked  him — with  the 
freedom  that  is  permissible  in  Spanish — if 
anything  that  he  had  eaten  at  breakfast  had 
disagreed  with  him  ?  And  being  only  half- 
convinced  by  his  disclaimer,  she  advised  him 
to  take  a  tumblerful  of  hot  water  with  a  dash 
of  tequila  in  it  as  soon  as  he  got  home. 


VII. 

THE   STORMING  OF    CHAPULTEPEC. 

WHEN  Pern,  a  few  days  later,  had  re 
covered  his  composure  sufficiently  to 
give  Rose  a  circumstantial  account  of  the 
Churubusco  battle,  that  very  hopeful  young 
person  took  her  usual  cheerful  view  of  what 
some  people  might  have  considered  a  desper 
ate  situation. 

"  It  couldn't  have  been  better  if  we'd 
planned  it  all  in  advance,"  she  said.  "  Even 
Van's  interruption  was  just  what  was  wanted, 
and  I  shall  tell  the  poor  boy  that  I  am  sorry 
I  scolded  him  so  for  it ;  I  will,  indeed. 

"  Don't  you  see,"  she  went  on— for  Pem 
certainly  did  not  look  much  like  a  person 
who  saw  anything  of  an  encouraging  nature 
anywhere — "  don't  you  see  what  a  fix  she's 
got  herself  into  by  saying  a  great  deal  more 


THE  STORMING   OF  CHAPULTEPEC.    349 

than  she  meant  to  ?  It's  all  as  plain  as  pos 
sible.  She  made  up  her  mind  some  time  ago, 
just  as  I  told  you,  that  she  would  fight  you 
off,  because  she  was  afraid  she  would  fall  in 
love  with  you  ;  which  meant  that  she  really 
had  begun  to  fall  in  love  with  you  and  didn't 
know  it — or  that  she  knew  it  and  wouldn't 
tell  herself  about  it.  You  can't  understand 
that,  I  suppose  ;  but  any  woman  can.  And 
then  you  succeeded  in  getting  her  off  that 
way,  and  began  to  say  things  to  her ;  and  she 
got  worried,  and  scared,  and  lost  her  wits  a 
little,  and  hit  ever  so  much  harder  than  she 
really  meant  to.  She  never  would  have 
brought  up  the  war  again,  I'm  sure,  if  she 
hadn't  felt  herself  to  be  in  a  corner  and  quite 
desperate.  When  you  suddenly  twisted 
things  round  on  her  that  way,  her  first 
thought,  of  course,  was  to  tell  you  that  she 
didn't  hate  you  at  all.  And  then  she  saw 
that  wouldn't  do,  for  it  would  give  you  a 
chance  to  go  right  ahead  and  ask  her  if  she 
loved  you.  And  then  she  thought  things 
over  and  came  to  the  conclusion — you  must 


3  SO  A   MEXICAN  CAMPAIGN. 

always  remember  what  a  horrid  time  she  had 
with  that  dreadful  old  husband,  and  how  firm 
ly  she  has  made  up  her  mind  never  to  marry 
again — and  then,  I  say,  she  came  to  the  con 
clusion  that  the  only  thing  to  do  was  to  break 
things  off  short,  and  have  done  with  it.  So 
she  said  that  she  hated  you." 

"  Well,  that  is  only  another  way  of  telling 
all  that  I  have  told  you,  Mrs.  Brown." 

"  It  is  not  what  you  told  at  all ;  for  you 
told  it  as  though  you  thought  that  she  meant 
it,  and  I  know  that  she  didn't.  She  only 
meant  to  mean  it,  that's  all." 

"  Aren't  we  dropping  into  metaphysics  a 
little  ?  "  Pern  asked,  drearily.  "  I  don't  see 
that  much  comfort  is  to  be  had  from  such  a 
finely  drawn  distinction  as  that  is.  Meaning 
a  thing,  and  meaning  to  mean  a  thing,  strike 
me  as  convertible  terms.  Don't  they  you  ?  " 

"  If  a  man  used  them,  I  suppose  they  would 
not  have  much  difference  ;  but  when  a  woman 
uses  them,  they  have  all  the  difference  in  the 
world.  When  a  woman  really  means  a  thing 
she  means  it — that  is,  of  course,  for  the  time 


THE  STORMING    OF  CHAPULTEPEC.    351 

being.  Naturally,  things  happen  sometimes 
to  make  her  change  her  mind.  But  when  she 
only  means  to  mean  a  thing,  she  does  not 
really,  in  the  depths  of  her  heart,  mean  it  at 
all.  She  only  thinks  that  she  ought  to,  you 
know.  And  in  the  case  of  Carmen,"  Rose 
went  on,  becoming  practical,  much  to  Pern's 
relief — for  his  masculine  mind  very  imperfect 
ly  grasped  this  line  of  highly  abstract  feminine 
reasoning — "  it  is  perfectly  clear  that  she  only 
said  she  hated  you  because  she  has  this  fool 
ish  notion  in  her  head  about  not  getting  mar 
ried,  and  was  ready  to  say  anything  at  the 
moment  that  would  stop  you  from  finding 
out  that  she  really  loves  you.  For  she  does 
love  you  now,  Mr.  Smith  ;  and,  what  is  more, 
she  knows  it  herself." 

"  But  if  she  won't  admit  that  she  loves  me, 
and  if  she  continues  to  hold  me  off  in  this 
way,  I  don't  see  that  any  good  can  come  of  it. 
It  has  been  very  kind  of  you,  Mrs.  Brown,  to 
help  me  as  you  have  done,  and  to  be  so  sym 
pathetic  and  good  to  me,  and  I  am  as  grate 
ful  to  you  as  I  can  be.  But  I  think  that  I'll 


352  A   MEXICAN  CAMPAIGN. 

give  up  now.  It  isn't  fair,  you  know,  to 
trouble  her  any  more  when  it  is  so  clear  that 
she  wants  me  to  keep  away  from  her.  So  I 
think  that  to-morrow  I'll  go  up  to  Guana 
juato — it  was  there  that  I  first  saw  her,  you 
know — and  I — I  should  like  to  go  once  more 
to  the  Presa,  where  we  had  our  first  walk  to 
gether.  And  then  I'll  go  on  north.  I'd  be 
rather  poor  company,  so  I  don't  mind  leaving 
the  party.  And  I  think  that  I  will  take  a 
long  journey  somewhere.  I've  been  wanting 
for  some  time  to  go  into  Central  Africa :  it 
must  be  a  very  interesting  country,  from 
what  I've  read  about  it.  And  if  I  should 
happen  to  die  of  the  coast-fever,  or  get  bowled 
over  in  a  fight,  or  something  of  that  sort, 
you  know,  it  might  be  just  as  well.  And 
some  time  or  other  you  will  see  her  again, 
very  likely;  and  then  you'll  tell  her  that  I 
really  did  think  a  good  deal  of  her,  won't 

you  ?     And  if  she " 

"  Mr.  Smith,"  said  Rose,  with  severity, 
"  you  will  please  stop  right  there.  What  you 
are  to  do  to-morrow  is  not  to  go  to  Guana- 


THE  STORMING    OF  CHAPULTEPEC.    353 

juato,  and  from  there  to  a  grave  in  Central 
Africa.  You  are  going  with  the  rest  of  us  to 
Chapultepec — and  you  are  going  to  try 
again ! " 

"  But  what  chance  will  I  have  to  try  again  ? 
You  don't  suppose  for  a  moment,  do  you,  that 
Carmen  will  be  of  the  party  ?  She  will  know 
that  I  will  be  with  the  rest  of  you,  or,  at  least, 
she  will  expect  me  to  be,  and  of  course  she 
will  stay  at  home." 

"  No,"  said  Rose,  decidedly ;  "  she  will 
not  stay  at  home.  During  the  past  few  days 
she  has  been  thinking  things  over  and  has  been 
very  miserable.  Violet  saw  her  yesterday, 
and  said  that  she  looked  wretchedly.  And 
she  said  that  Carmen  talked  to  her  for  nearly 
two  hours  about  the  way  we  live  at  home 
and  about  Violet's  own  life,  and  said  things 
about  the  impossibility  of  Mexicans  and 
Americans  marrying,  seemingly  to  give  Vio 
let  a  chance  to  say  how  happy  her  marriage 
with  Mr.  Mauve  had  been.  And  she  asked 
if  it  wasn't  true  that  all  the  Americans 
wanted  to  make  war  again  on  Mexico,  and  if 
23 


354          A  MEXICAN  CAMPAIGN: 

they  were  not  talking  about  it  all  the  time 
and  getting  ready  for  it,  and  seemed  very 
much  astonished  when  Violet  told  her  that  the 
majority  of  Americans  knew  very  little  more : 
about  Mexico  than  that  there  was  such  a 
country  in  existence,  and  that  they  had  no 
more  notion  of  making  war  against  it  than  of 
making  war  against  the  moon.  And  what 
she  knows  now  about  the  happy  life  that 
Violet  has  led  after  being  married  to  an 
American,  together  with  what  she  herself  had 
been  thinking  about  the  probability  that  her 
own  dismal  marriage  wasn't  a  fair  sample  of 
married  life  at  all,  I'm  sure  has  put  her  mind 
into  a  very  unsettled  state  all  around.  What 
you  must  do  now  is  to  finish  unsettling 
it,  and  then  settle  it  for  her  once  and  for  all. 
She  certainly  will  give  you  the  chance.  I 
think  that  I  have  not  told  you  yet  that  she 
told  Violet  that  she  was  going  to  Chapulte- 
pec  ?  " 

"  Oh,  Mrs.  Brown  !     How  could  you  keep 
that  back  until  the  very  last  ?  " 

"  So,  will  you  go  to  Chapultepec  too,  Mr. 


THE  STORMING    OF  CHAPULTEPEC.    355 

Smith ;  or  do  you  still  insist  upon  Central 
Africa  and  a  lonely  grave  ?  " 

The  expedition  to  Chapultepec  was  in  the 
nature  of  a  farewell,  for  on  the  ensuing  day 
the  Americans  were  to  leave  the  City  of  Mex 
ico  for  their  visit  to  the  Carmine  hacienda 
on  Lake  Cuitzeo.  If  they  returned  to  the 
capital  it  would  be  only  for  a  night  on  their 
way  northward  ;  and  there  was  a  possibility 
that  they  might  take  the  train  for  the  north 
at  Celaya,  and  so  not  return  to  the  capital  at 
all.  They  were  pretty  dismal  over  the  pros 
pect  of  home-going,  for  a  very  warm  love  of 
Mexico  had  taken  possession  of  all  their 
hearts.  Even  Mrs.  Gamboge,  while  firmly  of 
the  opinion  that  there  was  something  radi 
cally  wrong  in  a  country  that  countenanced 
hard  pillows  and  employed  men  as  chamber 
maids,  admitted  that  this  journey  into  Mex 
ico  was  the  pleasantest  journey  that  she  had 
ever  made. 

And  they  all  were  very  grateful  to  the 
Mexican  friends  who  had  done  so  much  to 


356  A   MEXICAN  CAMPAIGN. 

make  their  stay  in  the  capital  delightful. 
The  several  interpreters  of  the  party  were 
kept  busy  that  afternoon,  as  they  walked  in 
the  beautiful  park  of  Chapultepec,  in  render 
ing  into  Spanish  hearty  words  of  thanks,  and 
into  English  courteous  disclaimers  of  obliga 
tion  conferred.  The  pleasure  had  been  all 
on  their  side,  said  their  Mexican  friends.  Nor 
was  this  interchange  of  international  amen 
ities  ended  when  they  passed  out  from  beneath 
the  long,  slanting  shadows  of  the  great  ahue- 
huetes — the  moss-draped  trees  which  were  old 
four  centuries  ago,  before  ever  the  Spaniards 
came  into  the  land — and  slowly  walked  up  the 
winding  way  to  the  height  on  which  the 
castle  stands. 

Pern  had  been  shocked  when  he  first  saw 
Carmen's  face  that  afternoon.  The  lines 
were  drawn  as  though  with  illness,  and  she 
seemed  older  by  a  full  year  than  when  he  last 
had  seen  her.  He  saw,  too,  that  the  spring 
had  gone  out  of  her  step,  and  an  air  of  lan 
guor  hung  over  her  that  she  made  no  effort 
to  throw  off.  She  did  not  seek  to  evade 


THE  STORMING    OF  CHAPULTEPEC. 

him,  but  as  they  walked  together  she  man 
aged  always  to  keep  near  her  aunt ;  and  her 
talk,  conforming  to  her  actions,  was  languid 
and  dull.  The  only  sign  of  good  hope  that 
he  could  perceive  was  that  gradually  a  little 
color  came  into  her  face  and  a  little  bright 
ness  into  her  eyes. 

As  they  went  up  the  terraced  road  to  the 
castle,  catching  lovely  glimpses  of  the  valley 
out  between  the  trees,  Pern,  walked  slowly, 
that  they  might  drop  behind  the  rest  and  be 
alone.  Once  or  twice  he  stopped,  calling  her 
attention  to  the  view.  His  tactics  were  not 
successful ;  for  as  soon  as  the  space  between 
themselves  and  the  others  became  appreciable 
she  hastened  her  steps,  and  the  chance  that 
he  thought  he  had  secured  was  lost.  Yet  he 
marked  a  little  hesitancy  in  her  manner  each 
time  this  manoeuvre  was  executed  that  seemed 
to  imply  a  disposition  on  her  part,  possibly  all 
the  stronger  because  it  was  thus  checked,  to 
grant  him  the  opportunity  to  speak  that  he 
desired.  Once,  or  twice  even,  she  herself  lin 
gered  in  the  way  and  seemed  about  to  speak  ; 


358  A   MEXICAN  CAMPAIGN. 

and  then  moved  quickly  forward,  holding  her 
peace. 

Pem  would  have  been  glad  of  the  chance 
to  take  counsel  of  Rose  at  this  juncture,  for 
he  was  at  a  loss  to  determine  whether  these 
curious  signs  promised  good  or  boded  ill. 
This  young  gentleman  from  Philadelphia  was 
not  very  wise  in  the  ways  of  women ;  but 
even  had  he  been  far  wiser  than  he  was,  Car 
men's  curious  conduct  very  well  might  have 
puzzled  him. 

As  they  came  out  upon  the  eastern  terrace 
the  glorious  sunset  view,  a  reflected  splendor 
in  the  east,  burst  upon  them — one  of  the 
great  sunset  views  of  the  world. 

Below  them,  at  the  foot  of  the  sharp,  craggy 
descent,  and  surrounded  by  the  trees  of  the 
eastern  park,  lay  the  tiny  lake  that  Carlotta 
caused  to  be  made  while  she  played  for  a  lit 
tle  space  her  part  of  empress  here  in  the  cas 
tle.  To  the  right  lay  Tacubaya,  a  cluster  of 
low,  square  houses  embowered  in  trees,  on  a 
long,  sloping  hill-side  ;  and  beyond  Tacubaya 
rose  the  blue  encircling  wall  of  mountains, 


THE  STORMING   OF  CHAPULTEPEC.    359 

culminating  in  the  great  solemn  mass  of 
Ajusco,  that  shuts  in  the  valley  on  the  south. 
To  the  left  lay  the  city,  with  its  tall  church 
towers  rising  high  above  the  houses,  and  its 
many  domes,  covered  with  glazed  tiles,  flash 
ing  in  the  last  rays  of  the  sun ;  and,  farther 
on,  the  church  of  Guadalupe  stood  out 
against  the  hazy  lines  of  the  mountains  of 
Teypeyac,  and  on  Lake  Tezcuco  shimmered 
a  soft  light.  Right  in  front,  the  trees  of  the 
park  merged  into  other  trees  beyond  its  lim 
its;  and  the  great  valley,  dotted  with  gray 
houses,  and  gray  church  towers,  and  green 
remnants  of  ancient  forests,  and  broad  green 
meadows,  stretched  away  for  miles  and  miles 
eastward ;  and  in  the  midst  of  it  the  waters 
of  Lake  Chalco  shone  as  though  on  fire.  And 
beyond  all,  against  the  limit  of  the  eastern 
sky,  towered  the  two  great  volcanoes — masses 
of  gold  and  crimson  clouds  above  them,  and 
a  rich  rosy  light  resting  upon  their  crest-cov 
erings  of  eternal  snow. 

Carmen  and  Pem  had  stopped  a  little  be 
hind  the  others ;  and  when  Don  Antonio  sug- 


360  A   MEXICAN  CAMPAIGN. 

gested  a  slight  change  of  position,  she  took  a 
step  or  two  and  then  stood  still.  The  others 
moved  a  little  to  the  left.  Pem  moved  a 
little  to  the  right ;  and  Carmen,  following 
him,  seated  herself  upon  a  low  wall.  The  lit 
tle  color  that  had  come  into  her  cheeks  in  the 
park  had  left  them  now ;  but  her  eyes  had 
brightened  curiously.  Presently  they  heard 
Don  Antonio  advise  a  move  to  the  roof  of  the 
castle  :  this  hospitable  Mexican  seemed  to 
regard  the  sunset  as  an  entertainment  that  he 
himself  had  provided  for  the  pleasure  of  his 
American  friends,  and  wished  to  make  sure 
that  they  got  the  full  benefit  of  it.  Pem 
looked  inquiringly  at  Carmen  ;  but  her  gaze 
was  fixed  upon  the  distant  mountains,  and 
she  made  no  sign  of  moving.  Then  the 
sound  of  footsteps  and  voices  died  away ;  and 
so,  at  last,  they  were  alone. 

Carmen  had  leaned  her  head  back  against 
the  stone  wall — just  as  she  had  sat  that  day 
at  Churubusco — and  was  looking  out  dream 
ily  across  the  valley.  For  the  time  being  she 
appeared  to  be  quite  unconscious  of  the  fact 


THE  STORMING    OF  CHAPULTEPEC.    361 

of  Mr.  Pemberton  Logan  Smith's  existence. 
Although  the  situation  was  precisely  that 
which  for  two  hours  past  he  had  been  seeking 
to  accomplish,  Pern  found  it,  now  that  it  was 
secured,  a  trifle  embarrassing.  Carmen's 
manner  did  not  at  all  invite  the  utterance  of 
the  words  which  he  so  earnestly  desired  to 
speak ;  but  the  longer  that  the  silence  con 
tinued  the  more  he  found  his  nerves  going 
wrong.  It  was  rather  at  random  that  he 
spoke  at  last. 

"  The  great  mountain  to  the  left  is  called 
the  White  Woman,  I  am  told,  Seflorita.  It 
is  a  dismal  fancy,  this  of  a  dead  woman  lying 
enshrouded  in  the  snow." 

Carmen  gave  a  little  sigh  as  she  roused  her 
self.  "  The  Seflor  does  not  know  the  story," 
she  answered,  absently.  "  The  White  Woman 
is  not  dead.  Far  down  beneath  the  snow- 
covering  the  fires  of  her  life  burn  hotly.  She 
sleeps ;  and  the  great  mountain  beside  her  is 
her  lover,  who  wakens  her  with  his  kiss.  This 
is  the  foolish  story  that  the  common  people 
tell.  The  Mexicans  are  very  silly,  very 


362          A  MEXICAN  CAMPAIGN: 

superstitious,  very  stupid  —  as  the  Seflor 
knows." 

Carmen  uttered  her  comments  upon  the 
legend  and  upon  her  fellow-countrymen 
hastily  and  nervously,  as  though  seeking  to 
divert  attention  from  the  folk-story  itself — 
a  story  that  she  had  known,  of  course,  all 
her  life,  and  that  she  had  told  in  sheer  ab 
sence  of  mind. 

"  Is  it  not  possible,  Sefiorita,"  Pem  replied, 
ignoring  that  portion  of  her  speech  that  she 
had  added  precisely  for  the  purpose  of  divert 
ing  him  from  what  she  perceived  to  be  a  dan 
gerous  line  of  investigation,  "  that  this  is  not 
a  foolish  story,  but  a  wise  allegory  ?  May  it 
not  sometimes  happen  that  real  women  seek 
to  hide  with  snow  the  warm  love  that  is  in 
their  hearts  ?  I  am  not  speaking  lightly,  Sefi 
orita.  I  should  be  very  glad  to  believe  that 
this  story  has  a  deep  meaning  within  it ;  that 
it  is  not  a  mere  foolish  fancy,  but  a  beautiful 
and  eternal  truth."  And  then  he  added, 
speaking  very  gently,  "  Will  not  the  Sefiorita 
tell  me  that  this  may  be  true  ?  " 


THE   STORMING    OF  CHAPULTEPEC.    363 

Carmen  was  silent  for  a  moment,  and  when 
she  spoke  there  was  a  grave,  solemn  tone 
in  her  voice  that  struck  a  chill  into  Pern's 
heart. 

"  Yes,  Seftor,"  she  said  ;  "  it  is  true.  It  is 
true  now  and  it  has  been  true  always.  Since 
the  world  began  there  must  always  have  been 
some  women  whose  fate  it  was  that  their 
love  thus  should  be  chilled  upon  its  surface 
and  so  hidden  ;  and  believe  me,  Seftor  " — and 
a  certain  wistfulness  of  expression  came  into 
Carmen's  face  as  she  spoke — "  such  hidden 
love  as  this  perhaps  may  be  stronger  than 
the  love  that  is  felt  and  known." 

Carmen  was  silent  for  a  moment,  but  there 
was  something  in  her  manner  that  made 
Pem  refrain  from  speech.  Then,  still  speak 
ing  in  the  same  chill,  solemn  tone,  and  very 
slowly,  she  went  on  : 

"  I  know  what  you  mean,  Sefior.  I  am  not 
a  young  girl.  I  have  been  in  the  world,  and 
I  understand.  You  do  me  the  honor  to  love 
me,  and  to  want  my  love  in  return.  But  this 
may  not  be — not,  that  is,  in  the  way  that  you 


364  A   MEXICAN  CAMPAIGN. 

desire.  I  cannot  tell  you  the  story  of  my 
life.  There  are  some  things  in  it  that  I  have 
not  told  even  to  the  good  father  to  whom  I 
confess.  Perhaps  this  has  been  a  sin  ;  but 
sometimes  I  think  that  this  rule  of  our 
Church  which  commands  us  to  lay  bare  our 
hearts  to  men,  though  the  men  are  God's 
ministers,  is  not  a  good  rule.  It  is  a  great 
presumption  for  me  to  cherish  such  a  thought, 
but  I  cannot  help  it.  I  have  told  my  sorrows 
to  the  God  who  made  me,  and  who  in  his 
wisdom  has  made  my  life  sad  ;  not  to  his 
mother,  nor  to  his  saints,  you  understand, 
but  to  him. 

"  And  what  I  have  told  only  to  God  I  can 
not  tell  even  to  you.  But  you  may  know  at 
least  that  my  life  has  been  very,  very  bitter 
since  the  time  that — that  I  was  sold.  I  really 
was  sold,  Sefior;  and  I  had  not  even  the 
poor  consolation  which  is  given  to  some  un 
happy,  lost  women — but  less  unhappy  and  less 
hopelessly  lost  than  I  am — of  selling  myself. 
It  was  as  though  I  had  been  put  in  a  market 
place  like  a  horse  or  a  cow,  and  for  my  poor 


THE  STORMING    OF  CHAPULTEPEC.    365 

beauty's  sake  I  was  bought !  Of  the  time 
that  came  afterward  I  cannot  speak,  I  cannot 
bear  even  to  think  " — Carmen  shuddered  as 
she  spoke  and  her  face  flushed  with  shame 
and  anger — "  but  yet  I  cannot  drive  the  hor 
ror  of  it  from  my  thoughts.  And  then,  at 
last — to  others  it  seemed  very  soon,  but  not 
to  me — the  God  who  had  brought  this  bitter 
sorrow  upon  me  gave  me  a  little  help,  for  my 
owner  died.  It  had  been  better  far  that  I 
had  died  too,  for  I  was  dead  to  peace,  to 
hope ;  my  life  was  ended  at  a  time  when  for 
most  women  life  has  just  begun." 

Again  Carmen  was  silent  for  a  little  space, 
and  then  she  said :  "  Now  you  will  under 
stand,  Seftor,  why  it  is  that  I  tell  you  that 
the  story  of  the  White  Woman  yonder  is  true  ; 
for  I  myself,  a  living  woman,  know  that  what 
ever  there  may  be  of  warm  love  in  my  heart 
must  remain  forever  buried  deep  beneath  the 
snow." 

Pern's  eyes  had  tears  in  them  as  Carmen 
ceased  to  speak.  Once  or  twice  he  had  put 
out  his  hand  to  her,  but  she  had  motioned  Ic 


366  A   MEXICAN  CAMPAIGN. 

away.  When  she  had  made  an  end  he  spoke 
eagerly ;  and  while  his  voice  was  husky  and 
uncertain,  its  tone  was  firm. 

"  Carmen,  Carmencita,"  he  said,  "  your  sor 
rows  have  been  very  heavy  and  hard  to  bear, 
but  may  not  the  time  have  come,  at  last, 
when  in  place  of  sorrow  you  shall  have  hap 
piness  ?  Is  it  too  much  for  me  to  offer  you 
this  hope  ?  But  in  my  love — my  love  is  very 
strong,  Carmencita ;  far  stronger  now  that  I 
know  how  grievous  your  life  has  been — I  do 
not  dare  too  greatly  when  I  promise  you 
shelter  and  great  tenderness ;  and  so  may 
come  to  you  peace  and  rest.  And  remember," 
he  went  on  quickly,  checking  her  rising 
speech,  "  that  my  happiness  for  all  my  life 
rests  now  upon  your  answer.  Love  is  a  very 
selfish  passion,  otherwise  I  would  not  think, 
after  what  you  have  told  me,  of  my  own  hap 
piness  at  all.  But  I  do  think  of  it,  though 
less  than  of  yours.  I  know  that  without  you 
my  life  will  be  hopeless  and  worthless.  I 
believe  that  with  me,  away  from  all  those 
things  which  will  not  permit  you  to  forget — 


THE  STORMING    OF  CHAPULTEPEC.     367 

in  a  new  life  that  will  make  forgetfulness 
easy,  and  that  will  give  you  the  breadth  and 
the  freedom  that  I  know  you  need  and  wish 
— happiness  is  in  store  for  you.  Think,  think 
of  all  this  before  you  tell  me  that  you  will 
live  on  despairingly,  and  that  into  my  life 
also  you  will  bring  despair." 

Carmen  sat  motionless.  Through  her  half- 
closed  eyes  she  looked  out  upon  the  fading 
sunset.  The  golden  gleams  no  longer  were 
in  the  sky  now,  and  the  crimson  had  faded 
into  a  soft  rose-color.  On  the  snow-peaks 
rested  a  deep  violet  tint,  and  the  White 
Woman  shone  ghost-like  through  a  purple 
haze. 

"  Seftor,"  she  said  at  last,  "  it  may  not  be. 
What  you  have  told  me  of  the  life  that  I 
could  live  with  you  I  know  in  my  heart  is 
truth.  I  know  that  among  your  people  I 
should  find  what  I  long  for,  and  what  I  can 
not  find  among  my  own.  I  have  longed 
with  all  my  heart's  strength  for  the  life  that 
you  offer  me ;  and  I  have  longed  for  it  far 
more  since  I  have  known  you.  And  I  do  love 


368  A   MEXICAN  CAMPAIGN. 

you— — "  Pern  started  forward,  but  Cdrmen 
restrained  him  by  a  motion  of  her  hand.  "  I 
love  you  so  well  that  I  cannot  consent  to  ac 
cept  my  happiness  at  such  a  cost  to  you.  Af 
ter  the  shame  that  has  been  put  upon  me  I 
feel  that  I  am  not  fit  to  be  your — your  wife ;  I 
am  not  fit  to  be  the  wife  of  any  honest  man. 
Could  you  but  know  ! " 

Carmen  shuddered  again,  and  her  voice 
dropped  low.  Then,  in  a  moment,  she  went 
on :  "This  is  an  old,  old  world,  Sefior,  and  it 
seems  to  me  that  some  day  it  must  of  itself 
fall  to  pieces,  so  heavy  is  the  load  of  sorrow 
and  suffering  and  shame  that  it  carries.  But 
we  who  are  of  it  must  bear  with  it,  and  must 
bear  our  own  part  in  it,  stayed  by  such  hope 
of  another  and  a  better  world  as  God  in  his 
goodness  may  put  into  our  hearts.  Some 
times  I  think  that  the  talk  about  God's 
goodness  is  only  a  fond  delusion,  invented  by 
men  to  save  themselves  wholly  from  despair. 
But  I  fight  against  this  thought,  for  if  it  once 
fairly  possessed  my  soul  I  know  that  I  should 
go  mad.  And  what  matters  when  all  is  sor- 


THE  STORMING    OF  CHAPULTEPEC.    369 

row,  one  sorrow  more  or  less  ?  I  have  borne 
much  and  of  my  suffering  no  good  has  come. 
What  I  bear  now  in  refusing  the  life  that  you 
offer  me  I  can  bear  gladly,  for  I  know  that  I 
am  bringing  good  to  you.  So  this  is  the 
end. 

"  See,  the  dark  shadows  are  falling  upon 
the  White  Woman.  The  fire  is  there,  but  it 
is,  it  must  be,  covered  with  eternal  snow. 
Hark  !  Don  Antonio  is  calling  us.  We  must 
go  to  him." 

"  Carmen,"  said  Pern,  speaking  resolutely 
and  quickly,  "  I  will  not  take  this  answer.  I 
command  you  not  to  wreck  both  of  our  lives 
when  for  both  of  us  happiness  is  within  easy 
reach.  I  love  you,  and  so  I  am  your  servant ; 
but  you  own  your  love  for  me,  and  so  I  am 
your  master.  By  the  right  that  this  love 
gives  me  I  lay  on  you  my  command — accept 
my  love,  and  with  it  the  life  that  I  offer  you  ! " 

"  Sefior — I — I — how  can  I  answer  ?  At 
least — let  me  think.  Give  me  a  little  time." 

Voices  and  footsteps  were  near  at  hand. 
Pem  had  only  a  moment  left.  "  You  shall 
24 


370  A   MEXICAN  CAMPAIGN. 

have  time  to  think.  To-morrow  we  go  to  the 
hacienda.  We  shall  be  there  a  week  ;  longer, 
perhaps.  Very  well,  I  give  you  till  my  re 
turn  to  think.  But  remember,  my  order  has 
been  given,  and  it  must  be  obeyed  !  " 

"  It  was  much  finer,  the  view  from  the 
tower  of  the  castle,  Seflor;  why  did  you 
linger  here  ?  "  Don  Antonio  asked,  politely, 
but  in  the  slightly  injured  tone  of  one  who, 
having  provided  a  feast,  feels  that  a  guest  is 
not  doing  justice  to  it. 

"  You  must  forgive  me,  Don  Antonio,  but 
the  Seflorita,  your  niece,  as  we  turned  to  fol 
low  you,  had  a  narrow  escape  from  a  fall  here 
at  this  broken  space  in  the  parapet.  It  was  a 
great  danger,  and  the  shock  unnerved  her. 
See,  she  still  is  pale.  But  she  is  recovering 
now,  and  we  were  about  to  go  in  search  of 
you  when  we  heard  you  call." 

Carmen,  no  doubt,  was  grateful  to  Pern 
for  this  somewhat  stirring  flight  of  fancy; 
but  it  involved  them  both  subsequently  in  a 
rather  trying  exercise  of  their  respective  im 
aginations,  for  the  entire  party  insisted  upon 


THE  STORMING    OF  CHAPULTEPEC.    3/1 

hearing  the  minutest  details  of  the  adventure 
told.  Only  Rose  refrained  from  questioning. 
She  had  not  much  faith  in  the  parapet  story, 
but  she  did  have  her  own  ideas,  and  reserved 
her  questions  accordingly.  But  what  really 
had  happened,  beyond  the  bare  fact  that  that 
afternoon  on  the  heights  of  Chapultepec  had 
marked  a  turning-point  in  the  campaign, 
Rose  never  knew. 


VIII. 

THE  CONQUEST  OF  MEXICO. 

SENOR  CARMINE'S  hospitality,  being 
put  to  a  practical  test  by  the  arrival 
at  his  hacienda  of  the  entire  American  party, 
proved  to  be  as  boundless  in  fact  as  it  had 
been  boundless  in  promise.  His  only  regret 
was  that  the  party  had  not  been  organized 
on  a  larger  scale.  Jaune  and  Van,  indeed, 
found  his  pressing  questions  as  to  why  the 
surviving  parents  of  their  respective  wives 
had  not  come  with  them  a  trifle  embarrassing. 
The  Sefiora  Carmine — or  Mrs.  Carmine, 
as,  with  lingering  memories  of  her  early  life 
at  Fort  Leavenworth,  she  preferred  to  be 
styled — was  equally  instant,  and  far  more  vol 
uble,  in  her  expressions  of  welcome  and  gen 
eral  good-will.  She  was  a  stout,  jolly  woman 
of  eight-and-forty,  or  thereabouts,  with  just  a 


THE   CONQUEST  OF  MEXICO.         373 

suggestion  of  brogue  in  her  English  and  Span 
ish,  and  with  a  heart  that  seemed  to  be  as 
big  as  she  herself  was  broad.  Rowney  Mauve 
found  her  at  once  shocking  and  delightful, 
and  had  the  wisdom  to  congratulate  himself 
upon  the  fact  that  his  feelings  toward  his 
mother-in-law  could  be  of  this  mixed  sort. 
From  Violet's  report  of  her  he  had  expected 
that  things  would  be  a  good  deal  worse. 

In  point  of  fact,  all  of  the  Americans  had 
dreaded  this  visit  a  little.  It  is  one  thing  to 
associate  somewhat  formally  with  foreigners 
in  a  city,  and  it  is  quite  another  thing  to  be 
projected  into  close  and  intimate  association 
with  a  foreign  family  in  its  own  home.  Mrs. 
Gamboge,  in  whose  character  adaptability 
was  not  an  especially  prominent  trait,  frankly 
admitted  that  she  wished  that  the  visit  were 
well  over ;  and  in  this  wish  Mr.  Gamboge, 
who  took  a  warm  interest  in  his  own  personal 
comfort  and  was  impressed  by  a  prophetic 
conviction  that  this  was  one  of  the  occasions 
when  his  personal  comfort  would  have  to  be 
sacrificed,  heartily  sympathized.  Mr.  Man- 


374  ^   MEXICAN  CAMPAIGN. 

gan  Brown  had  his  own  private  doubts  as  to 
how  things  would  work  out ;  but  he  went  at 
the  matter  cheerfully,  and  comforted  himself 
with  the  conviction  that,  after  all,  a  fortnight 
is  not  a  very  important  part  of  a  lifetime. 
The  younger  members  of  the  party  were 
disposed  to  regard  the  visit  in  the  light  of  a 
very  original  frolic,  and  to  get  as  much  fun 
out  of  it  as  possible. 

Violet,  of  course,  was  in  a  condition  of  en 
thusiastic  delight  that  she  manifested  in  her 
own  vigorous  fashion,  completely  exhausting 
Rowney  Mauve  during  the  first  two  or  three 
days  by  trotting  him  about,  on  foot  and  on 
horseback,  to  see  the  various  places  and  peo 
ple  and  things  on  the  hacienda  especially  be 
loved  by  her.  And  when  Rowney,  who  was 
a  capital  horseman,  got  the  better  of  the 
bucking  pony,  Violet's  pride  in  him  was  un 
bounded.  This  equine  victory  of  Rowney's 
had  the  further  good  result  of  settling  him 
firmly  in  the  Carmine  family  heart. 

"  Ah  !  he  can  ride,"  said  Seftor  Carmine, 
with  the  same  complacent  air  that  an  Ameri- 


THE   CONQUEST  OF  MEXICO.         375 

can  father  would  say  of  his  daughter's 
husband  :  "  He  is  worth  a  solid  half-million ; 
he  is  a  consistent  church-member,  and  he 
belongs  to  one  of  the  best  families  in  the 
State!" 

But  none  of  the  doubts  which  disturbed 
the  minds  of  the  American  visitors  disturbed 
the  minds  of  their  Mexican  hosts.  Self- 
consciousness  is  not  a  characteristic  of  the 
kindly  Spanish- American  race.  With  a  frank 
cordiality  Seflor  Carmine  welcomed  these 
strangers  within  his  gates  ;  and  as  he  was  very 
glad  to  see  them  his  guests,  he  did  not  for  a 
moment  imagine  that  they  could  be  anything 
else  than  glad  too.  In  a  general  way  he  knew 
that  their  customs  must  be  unlike  his,  and 
he  expected  some  manifestations  of  this  dif 
ference  which  would  seem  to  him  strange. 
Americans  were  curious  creatures.  Had  he 
not  married  one,  and  did  he  not  know  ?  It 
was  a  cardinal  belief  with  Seftor  Carmine  that 
his  wife,  the  Seftora  Brigida  O'Jara  de  Car 
mine — the  descendant,  as  she  herself  had 
assured  him,  of  a  line  of  Irish  kings,  and  the 


3/6  A   MEXICAN  CAMPAIGN. 

daughter  of  a  prominent  citizen  of  Fort  Leav- 
enworth — was  a  shining  example  of  the 
grace,  the  elegance,  and  the  refinement  of  the 
Americans  of  the  North.  It  surprised  him  a 
good  deal  to  find  how,  in  certain  ways,  the 
American  ladies  now  his  guests  differed  from 
this  his  standard  of  American  ladyhood. 

As  for  the  Sefiora,  this  access  of  American 
society  caused  her  to  renew  her  youth  like  the 
eagles.  It  was  her  desire  to  make  the  house 
and  the  household,  for  the  time  being,  as 
American  as  possible.  She  arranged  her 
guest-chambers  in  the  fashion,  as  nearly  as 
she  could  remember  it,  of  the  aristocratic 
hotel  in  Kansas  City  that  her  father  had  taken 
her  to  for  a  week,  five  and  twenty  years  be 
fore.  She  introduced  substantial  breakfasts 
at  eight  o'clock;  and  Sefior  Carmine,  eating 
for  politeness'  sake,  nearly  ruined  his  diges 
tion  by  his  enforced  abandonment  of  his 
morning  bread  and  chocolate. 

On  the  evening  that  the  Americans  arrived, 
this  hospitable  lady  announced  that  "  it  'u'd 
be  after  makin'  them  feel  more  home-like, 


THE   CONQUEST  OF  MEXICO.          377 

sure,  to  play  some  American  games,"  and 
added,  after  a  moment's  reflection,  "  How 
'u'd  yees  like  '  Copenhagen,'  now  ?  "  And  in 
spite  of  Violet's  protests,  Mrs.  Carmine  organ 
ized  the  game  instantly,  and  "  chose  "  Mr. 
Mangan  Brown  and  kissed  him  with  a  hear 
ty  smack  that  was  the  very  embodiment  of 
cheery  hospitality.  And  both  Sefior  Carmine 
and  Mrs.  Gamboge  were  rather  shocked,  and 
very  nervous  over  it,  when  Sefior  Carmine, 
acting  under  his  wife's  orders,  in  accordance 
with  the  rules  of  elegant  society  in  Fort  Leav- 
enworth,  "  chose  "  and  kissed  the  eldest  lady 
among  his  guests. 

Sefior  Carmine  felt  called  upon  to  explain 
through  Violet  that  this  cordial  freedom  was 
not  in  accordance  with  Mexican  customs, 
which  very  emphatically  was  the  truth. 
"  But  while  our  house  is  honored  by  the 
presence  of  Americans,"  he  added,  "  we  desire 
to  make  our  ways  like  theirs."  Even  Mr. 
Gamboge,  after  this  friendly  speech,  was  not 
so  lacking  in  tact  as  to  suggest  that  their  host 
be  informed  that  "  Copenhagen  "  was  not  an 


378  A   MEXICAN  CAMPAIGN. 

ordinary  form  of  evening  amusement  in  all 
classes  of  society  in  New  York. 

However,  in  private,  Violet  took  upon  her 
self  the  task  of  enlightening  her  mother  in 
the  premises.  The  Sefiora  was  a  good  deal 
cut  up  about  it. 

"  To  think  how  times  has  changed  since  I 
was  a  gurrl,  Violet  dear !  We  all  uv  us,  from 
the  Mejor  down,  was  great  hands  for  kissin'- 
games  in  the  old  days  at  the  Foort ;  an' 
moighty  good  fun  'twas,  too.  Your  mother's 
after  feelin'  that  she's  an  old  woman,  sure," 
ruefully  said  the  descendant  of  the  royal 
house  of  O'Jara.  But  she  accepted  her 
daughter's  advice  in  good  part,  and  among 
the  various  modes  of  entertainment  which 
she  thereafter  devised  for  the  benefit  of  her 
guests  "  kissing-games  "  did  not  reappear. 

To  Rose  the  most  distinctive  feature  of 
the  visit  was  the  arrangement  of  her  bed 
chamber.  The  Seflora's  memory  of  the  hotel 
in  Kansas  City  had  not  been  very  clear.  In 
fact,  it  consisted  principally  of  rocking-chairs. 
As  it  is  a  matter  of  pride  with  Mexican 


THE   CONQUEST  OF  MEXICO.          379 

housewives  to  have  as  many  chairs  as  pos 
sible  in  a  room,  the  Seftora  had  sent  a  liberal 
order  for  rocking-chairs  to  the  City  of  Mexico 
as  soon  as  the  coming  of  the  Americans  had 
been  arranged. 

"  It's  a  little  horrifying,  somehow,  Van, 
don't  you  think,"  Rose  said,  "  to  see  all  those 
six  rocking-chairs  in  a  row  that  way  ?  It's 
like  ghosts  and  skeletons,  you  know."  Brown 
failed  to  see  where  the  ghostliness  and  skele 
ton-likeness  came  in  ;  but  he  was  accustomed 
to  having  Rose  discover  unexpected  resem 
blances,  and  took  the  matter  easily. 

"Of  course  the  two  little  beds  are  all 
right,"  she  went  on,  "  for  that's  the  regular 
Mexican  custom  ;  but  I  wish  they  hadn't 
put  them  at  opposite  ends  of  the  room — it's 
such  a  very  big  room,  you  see." 

"  Big  enough  for  a  town-hall,  up  in  our 
part  of  the  world,"  Van  assented. 

"  But  suppose  I'm  taken  sick,  or  some 
thing  frightens  me  in  the  night ;  what  am 
I  to  do?" 

"  You  might  have  your  shoes  handy,  and 


380          A  MEXICAN  CAMPAIGN: 

shy  them  at  me.  You  wouldn't  be  likely  to 
throw  straight  enough  to  hit  me ;  but  I'd 
hear  things  banging  about,  and  wake  up  in 
time  to  rescue  you." 

"  Don't  be  foolish,  Van  ;  I'm  really  in 
earnest.  It  is  dreadful  to  be  so  far  away  in 
the  dark.  And — why,  Van,  there  isn't  any 
slop-bucket,  and  there's  only  one  towel ! 
And  it  can't  be  because  they're  poor,  or  any 
thing  like  that,  for  they're  not ;  and  the 
basin  and  the  pitcher  are  perfectly  beautiful 
French  china,  good  enough  for  bric-k-brac. 
Don't  you  think  it  very  strange  ?  Oh ! 
who's  that?" 

Van  himself  was  a  little  startled,  for  a  door 
at  the  end  of  the  room  opened  and  a  nice- 
looking  old  woman  placidly  walked  through 
the  apartment — smiling  in  a  friendly  way  at 
them — and  passed  out  by  one  of  the  doors 
opening  on  the  corridor,  bidding  them  as 
she  departed,  an  affable  good-night.  Neither 
Rose  nor  Van  was  exactly  in  costume  for 
receiving  even  transient  visitors. 

Brown    went   to   close  the   door  through 


THE   CONQUEST  OF  MEXICO.          381 

which  the  old  woman  had  entered.  "  Why, 
it's  a  chapel !  "  he  said.  "  She  must  have 
been  in  there  saying  her  prayers.  And  I 
don't  see  what  we  are  going  to  do  about 
ventilation,"  he  continued,  as  he  examined 
the  doors  opening  on  the  corridor.  "  These 
things  are  solid  wood,  three  inches  thick.  If 
we  shut  them,  we  won't  have  any  fresh  air 
at  all ;  and  if  we  leave  them  open,  anybody 
can  see  in.  The  Mexicans  seem  to  have 
very  extraordinary  notions  of  privacy,  any 
way." 

"  I  don't  like  it  at  all,"  said  Rose.  "  And 
with  all  these  old  women  marching  about — 
but  she  seemed  a  nice  sort  of  old  woman, 
I  must  say — and  these  open  doors,  and  all, 
I'm  quite  nervous.  You'd  better  shut  them 
all  tight,  Van.  It  is  such  a  big  room  that 
the  air  won't  be  very  bad." 

But  Brown  left  the  door  in  the  corner 
open,  and  the  first  thing  that  he  knew  in 
the  morning  he  was  waking  up  and  finding 
a  serving-man  gravely  entering  with  an 
earthen  jar  of  fresh  water.  The  man  said 


382  A   MEXICAN  CAMPAIGN. 

good-morning,  in  a  matter-of-fact  way,  and 
asked — as  far  as  Brown  could  make  out — if 
the  Seflor  and  Sefiora  had  rested  well,  and  if 
there  was  anything  else  that  he  could  bring 
them. 

Violet  seemed  rather  surprised  when  Rose, 
in  a  delicate  way,  lodged  a  remonstrance 
against  these  intrusions. 

"  Oh,  you  needn't  mind  them,"  she  said. 
"  Old  Margarita  always  goes  into  the  oratory 
at  night  to  say  her  prayers — she  is  a  dear  old 
thing.  And  if  Juan  doesn't  bring  you  fresh 
water  in  the  morning,  and  see  if  you  want 
anything,  what  are  you  going  to  do  ?  " 

Rose  did  not  feel  at  liberty  to  speak  about 
the  one  towel.  She  drew  on  her  private 
stock.  At  the  end  of  a  week  the  one  towel 
was  removed,  and  a  clean  towel  was  put  in 
its  place.  They  were  very  elegant,  in  their 
way,  these  solitary  towels ;  of  beautiful  linen, 
and  ornamented  with  a  good  deal  of  hand 
some  embroidery.  Rose  never  quite  suc 
ceeded  in  making  up  her  mind  as  to  whether 
they  really  were  intended  for  use,  or  simply 


THE   CONQUEST  OF  MEXICO.          383 

were  fitting  accessories  to  the  bric-a-brac  basin 
and  pitcher. 

In  regard  to  the  slop-bucket,  Violet  settled 
the  matter  promptly.  "  Just  empty  your 
basin  out  over  the  edge  of  the  corridor,"  she 
said.  "  That's  the  way  we  always  do,  you 
know."  And  that  was  the  way  they  did. 

Another  peculiarity  of  the  household  that 
struck  the  Americans  forcibly  was  that  at 
meals  the  women  were  given  their  food  after 
the  men.  The  first  portion  went  to  Mr. 
Mangan  Brown,  the  next  to  Mr.  Gamboge, 
and  then  the  younger  men,  in  turn,  received 
their  portions.  After  this  the  women,  be 
ginning  with  Mrs.  Gamboge,  were  served. 
It  made  one  feel  like  living  in  the  Middle 
Ages,  Rose  said. 

But  with  all  the  oddities  and  peculiarities 
of  domestic  life  which  they  encountered,  the 
underlying  kindliness  and  hearty  hospitality 
of  their  entertainers  made  the  Americans  feel 
thoroughly  sorry  when  the  fortnight  came  to 
an  end.  It  was  a  matter  of  some  doubt,  in 
deed,  as  to  whether  they  would  be  permitted 


384  A   MEXICAN  CAMPAIGN. 

to  leave  at  the  end  of  this  very  short  visit. 
Seftor  Carmine  had  counted  upon  having 
them  with  him  for  several  months,  he  as 
sured  them  ;  why  could  they  not  stay  on  ? 
The  summer  was  such  a  lovely  season  on  the 
plateau — never  hot,  never  cold  ;  and  all  man 
ner  of  delicious  fruit  to  be  gathered  freshly 
every  day.  Why  should  they  not  remain  ? 

But  Seflor  Carmine  yielded  to  the  inevita 
ble,  and  aided  his  wife  in  devising  and  ar 
ranging  stores  of  all  manner  of  good  things 
to  eat  and  to  drink  for  his  departing  guests 
to  take  with  them  for  sustenance  by  the  way. 
From  the  quantities  of  food  provided  for  this 
purpose,  anybody  but  a  Mexican  would  have 
inferred  that  the  party  was  about  setting 
forth  to  cross  an  exceedingly  wide  desert ;  in 
stead  of  upon  a  comfortable  journey  of  eight 
hours  by  rail,  with  very  fair  opportunities  for 
sustaining  life  by  stops  at  two  reasonably 
good  eating-stations. 

The  one  member  of  the  party  who  really 
was  glad  to  leave  the  hacienda  was  Mr.  Pem- 
berton  Logan  Smith.  Pern  never  had  known 


THE   CONQUEST  OF  MEXICO.         385 

two  weeks  so  long  as  these  two  weeks  had 
been.  He  had  done  his  best  to  be  as 
cheerful  as  possible,  for  he  was  a  well-bred 
young  man,  with  strong  convictions  in 
regard  to  the  impropriety  of  exhibiting 
publicly  his  private  griefs ;  but  in  spite  of 
his  best  efforts  he  had  not  been  wholly  suc 
cessful,  so  very  much  depended  upon  that 
answer  which  he  was  to  receive  when  the 
two  weeks  were  at  an  end.  He  had  played 
a  masterful  part  that  day  at  Chapultepec, 
but  would  he  be  able  to  keep  on  playing  it  ? 
Carmen  loved  him — she  admitted  it;  but 
could  he  force  her  to  give  him  her  love  ? 
These  were  the  questions  which  constantly 
were  in  his  mind,  constantly  tormenting  him 
with  their  varying  answers  and  consequent 
shiftings  from  hopeful  elation  to  desolating 
doubts  and  fears.  Even  to  have  desolation 
set  in  for  a  permanency  was  better,  he 
thought,  than  that  this  racking  uncertainty 
should  endure.  And  so  he  was  very  glad 
when  at  last  his  face  was  set  once  more 
toward  certainty  and  the  City  of  Mexico. 
25 


386  A   MEXICAN  CAMPAIGN". 

Although  the  train  did  not  arrive  at  the 
Colonia  Station  until  after  eight  o'clock  at 
night,  Don  Antonio  was  on  hand  to  meet 
them,  and  had  a  little  procession  o)f  carriages 
in  readiness  for  their  conveyance  to  their 
hotel.  No  one  would  have  been  surprised 
had  he  brought  along  a  brass  band.  Had 
he  happened  to  think  of  it,  very  likely  he 
would. 

He  had  planned  one  more  expedition  for 
them,  he  said  ;  and  hastened  to  add,  fearing 
that  the  question  of  lack  of  time  would  be 
raised,  that  it  was  a  very  little  one.  It  was 
only  to  go  once  more  to  the  shrine  of  Guada- 
lupe.  They  had  been  there  once,  but  he 
feared  that  they  had  not  drunk  of  the  water 
of  the  Holy  Well.  Did  they  know  that 
whoever  drank  of  this  water  needs  must 
return — no  matter  how  far  away  they  might 
stray  into  the  world — to  drink  again  ?  There 
fore  they  must  come  with  him  and  drink: 
so  would  he  have  assurance  that  they  all 
would  return. 

Of  course,  an  invitation  of  this  gracious 


THE   CONQUEST  OF  MEXICO.         387 

sort  could  not  be  refused  ;  and  so  it  was 
decided  to  defer  the  start  northward  for  yet 
another  day,  and  to  go  to  Guadalupe  on  the 
following  afternoon.  Pern  was  well  pleased 
with  this  arrangement,  and  especially  with 
the  fact,  mentioned  by  Don  Antonio  inci 
dentally,  that  it  was  to  his  niece  that  he 
owed  the  suggestion  of  assuring  in  this  way 
the  return  of  their  American  friends.  Pern 
could  not  but  believe  that  herein  was 
ground  for  hope. 

But  from  Carmen's  face,  when  they  all 
met  the  next  afternoon  in  the  Plaza,  he 
could  make  nothing :  her  eyes  were  down 
cast,  and  her  lips  were  firm.  But  it  com 
forted  him  to  see  that  the  wearied,  pained 
look,  that  had  shocked  him  so  when  they 
last  met  at  Chapultepec,  had  disappeared. 
During  the  short  ride  on  the  tramway  she 
sat  nearly  opposite  to  him  in  the  car,  her  eyes 
still  cast  down.  But  through  the  veil  of  her 
dark  lashes  he  felt  that  she  was  looking  at 
him  earnestly. 

As  the  church  already  had  been  visited, 


388  A   MEXICAN  CAMPAIGN. 

there  was  nothing  to  detain  them  from 
the  immediate  object  of  their  pilgrimage. 
Therefore  Don  Antonio,  gallantly  escorting 
Mrs.  Gamboge,  led  the  way  directly  across 
the  pretty  plazuela,  past  the  old  parish 
church  and  so  to  the  beautiful  little  chapel — 
the  masterpiece  of  the  architect  Guerrero  y 
Torres — that  covers  the  Holy  Well. 

With  something  of  the  serious  air  of  one 
who  administers  a  religious  rite,  Don  Antonio 
dipped  up  the  water  through  the  iron  grating 
and  served  it  to  his  American  friends.  As 
Pern  drank,  Cdrmen  for  an  instant  looked 
full  upon  him.  It  was  a  strange  look  :  but 
again  Pern  believed  that  he  had  a  right  to 
hope. 

When  the  ceremony  was  ended  they 
mounted  the  stone  stairway  that  winds  up 
the  hill-side,  to  take  a  last  look  at  the  sun 
set  light  upon  the  snow  mountains. 

"  Not  a  last  look,"  Don  Antonio  correct- 
ingly  interposed.  "  You  have  drunk  of  the 
water  of  the  Holy  Well." 

In   the    Mexican  fashion   the    gentlemen 


THE   CONQUEST  OF  MEXICO.         389 

offered  their  hands  to  the  ladies  to  assist 
them  in  the  ascent.  Pern  gave  his  hand  to 
Carmen  ;  hers  was  very  cold,  and  it  trembled 
as  it  touched  his. 

Where  the  stairways  from  the  opposite 
sides  of  the  hill  unite,  on  the  little  plateau 
before  the  stone  screen,  they  paused  to  rest  ; 
and  when  the  party  moved  on,  passing  be 
yond  the  screen,  Pern  took  Carmen's  hand, 
as  though  to  follow,  but  gently  detained  her. 
He  felt  her  hand  tremble  again.  She  with 
drew  it  from  his,  and  in  obedience  to  his 
gesture  seated  herself  beside  him  upon  the 
stone  bench.  And  so  once  more  they  were 
alone  at  sunset. 

But  now  that  the  moment  for  which  Pern 
had  longed  so  earnestly  had  come,  his  fears 
entirely  overmastered  his  hopes,  and  he  did 
not  dare  to  speak.  He  knew  that  this  hour 
would  decide  his  life  for  him.  He  remem 
bered  all  that  Carmen  had  urged  to  make 
clear  to  him  that  while  she  loved  him  she 
could  not  give  him  her  love  ;  he  remembered 
how  little  substantial  ground  she  had  given 


39O  A   MEXICAN  CAMPAIGN. 

him  that  day  for  believing  that  th«  con 
clusion  which  she  had  arrived  at  deliberate 
ly,  and  deliberately  had  stated  a  fortnight 
before,  was  to  be  reversed.  And  as  these 
dreary  thoughts  possessed  him,  hope  slipped 
farther  and  farther  away  from  his  heart. 

Carmen  sat  silently  beside  him.  Her 
open  hand  rested  upon  the  stone  bench,  not 
far  from  his,  but  he  had  not  the  courage  to 
take  it.  Her  eyes  were  turned  eastward 
toward  the  snow  mountains.  High  above 
the  snow-capped  peaks  was  a  glory  of  red 
and  golden  cloud,  but  the  mountains  below 
were  cold  and  colorless.  To  Pern's  mind 
the  White  Woman  seemed  more  than  ever 
a  dead,  cold  woman,  half  hidden  beneath  her 
shroud  of  snow.  And  as  this  dreary  thought 
came  into  his  mind,  linking  itself  with  the 
sorrowful  thoughts  already  there,  and  by  an 
allegory  making  the  sorrow  of  them  still  more 
keen,  there  came  from  his  lips  a  sob.  Doubt 
less  there  is  no  sound  more  pathetic  than  the 
sob  of  a  strong  man. 

And  then  Pern  felt  a  soft  hand,  not  cold, 


THE   CONQUEST  OF  MEXICO.         391 

but  warm,  in  his;  and  at  that  instant  a 
shifting  of  the  clouds  changed  the  current  of 
the  sunlight,  and  the  White  Woman  was  lit 
up  by  a  ruddy,  life-giving  glow. 

Pern's  heart  bounded.  He  raised  his 
head,  and  his  eyes  met  Carmen's  —  look 
ing  full  at  him  now,  bright  through  tears 
and  full  of  love. 

"  Seflor,  Seflor  mio,"  said  Carmen,  as  they 
rose  at  last  from  the  stone  bench,  yet  still 
looked  eastward  on  the  splendor  of  gold  and 
crimson  clouds  and  crimsoned  snow,  "  it 
was  here  in  Guadalupe  Hidalgo  that  the 
treaty  of  peace  between  the  conquered  Mex 
icans  and  the  conquering  Americans  was 
signed." 


THE    END. 


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